


Herbs & Spices

by zwischenimmerundnie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Cooking, Enemies to Lovers, Except They Are Not Really Enemies, Its Beautiful To See, M/M, They Do Annoy The Hell Out Of One Another Though, chef, farmer - Freeform, farmers market, restaurant, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zwischenimmerundnie/pseuds/zwischenimmerundnie
Summary: After a bad break up, Timothée decides to change his life around and move from New York all the way to Los Angeles, where he dreams of opening his own restaurant. In a complete new city, with new friends, new neighbors and a lot of work to do, Timothée will slowly  understand more about himself, his priorities and learn that sometimes, change is easier than expected.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 234
Kudos: 233





	1. Brave New World

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another one.  
> Call me crazy, obsessed or just plain weird, but I simply can´t stop writing new adventures about these two.  
> Hope you guys enjoy this fic, because I certainly love every single second I spend working on it.

Timothée didn't plan on leaving New York, which had been his home ever since the day he was born, but a string of occurrences -most of which he rather forget- led him to making such a decision. He wanted to leave behind the bad memories, focus his mind on something that was only his and that no one else could ever take it away.

His parents thought it was a bit hasty of him to do such a thing, his sister backed him up, even if she also suggested that he should take some time to actually think about what this could lead to. His best friend, who had been by his side ever since preschool, was the first person to say that he should do it, that the change could help him get his mind back in order after months of pain and doubt.

Now he stands in front of the airport, luggage in hand as he waves at one of the many taxis, a smile on his lips as the driver pulls up right in front of him. He's been in Los Angeles once his entire life, a weekend that he spent with his family during summer vacation, but he never really thought much of the place. While everyone seemed to love Los Angeles and the aesthetic of it, Timothée barely gave it much thought until he had to decide where to go.

He thanks the driver as he places his bags on the trunk, gets in the passenger seat, puts on his seatbelt and takes a small piece of paper from his jean pocket, making sure the address he gives the driver is the correct one. They leave shortly after, the driver asking a few random and trivial questions, which Timothée assumes he asks everyone who exits the airport, whether they look like tourists or not. He keeps his answers brief, but keeps a polite smile on his face throughout the whole exchange, even if his eyes are way more focused on the landscape surrounding him.

The buildings sure aren't the same as New York, or at least not the ones he was used to being in, but nonetheless, he can find some beauty in the architecture of the place. The driver does a few turns, palm trees coming to view and then disappearing once again, stores he had never even heard of suddenly appear and at some point, half a dozen skaters run across the street right before the car. Once the neighborhood starts to get a lot more cozy, Timothée notices a couple of markets, one in particular catching his attention.

It´s a farmer's market, the entrance made of wood and adorned with plants, the signs in front of it suggesting a large variety in natural products, which all could come in handy once he was established and ready to get things running. The car stops only a couple of blocks away from the market and Timothée glances out of the window, biting his lip as he stares at his brand new house. He exhales deeply, nods his head and exits the car, thanking the driver as he hands him his luggage back. He pays the fee, thanks him once more and then walks the small sidewalk that leads to the main entrance, the white walls a huge contrast to the dark brick walls of his apartment back in New York. He wasn't even going to mention the size.

He takes the keys in his pocket, stares down at it for a couple of seconds and then inserts in the lock, twisting to the side and hearing the little click of it. He pushes the door open, green eyes wandering around the place, a mix of excitement and fear consuming him; a part of him thinks he might have made a big mistake, while the other is happy that he gets to start something completely new. He steps inside, lays his luggage down on the floor and notices the sea of boxes on the opposite corner; his realtor made sure to take care of his baggage, which to Timothée seemed like a gift from an angel. He had no idea how he would deal with handling everything all at once.

He walks to the kitchen, leans against the wall as he takes in the place, which he had only seen through photos until this day, then heads to the back door, taking a quick look at the backyard he has, that is nowhere near big, but enough for a few chairs and some lights, a cozy place for him to drink some beers with his friends.

That is, when he actually does make some friends.

He sighs, runs his fingers through his curls and heads back inside, taking in every little detail on the house. The living room is spacious, the windows allow a good amount of sunlight in and for a moment he can actually visualise himself living there, making this house a home. He walks down the narrow hallway that leads to the master bedroom, a spare bedroom and a bathroom, nothing too fancy or big, but enough for someone who used to live in a tiny one bedroom apartment.

He stands by the door of what is now his bedroom, slightly overwhelmed with the feelings that are consuming him. The butterflies in his stomach are unlike anything he ever felt, but he knows he can make it through this. He has been through some bad things the last six months and if he survived all of that with his head held high, there´s nothing else in the world he can´t do. He checks his phone, notices the time and grabs his jacket on his way out of the house; it's time to get to know his surroundings a bit better and Timothée knows the best way to do it is by taking a walk, maybe stop by to eat and drink something.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée takes his time wandering the streets of his brand new neighborhood, trying his very best to get acquainted with every single store nearby and take a closer look at his neighbors, which at first sight seem to be a quite friendly bunch. Obviously it was too soon to have a concrete say on whether or not he would get along with those people, but on a first sight, things sure seemed a lot better than he might have expected.

While returning home, he finds a small bistro, which has plants on the entrance and beautiful posters on the walls, the lights hanging from the ceiling reminding him of the ones in his old apartment. He sits at an empty table, eyes immediately down to the menu, which contains an awful amount of healthy food, some of which he never actually heard of. He wrinkles his nose, chuckles at some of the things he sees there and then grabs his phone, taking a photo of the menu to send it to his friend.

He glances up as a waiter approaches him, a warm smile on his face as he takes a pen from his apron. Timothée notices he hasn't really decided what to order, so he scans his eyes through the menu once again, figuring he could never go wrong with a good pasta. He places his order, nods as the waiter recites everything back to him to make sure it's all good and then watches him walk away. He looks out the window, the Sun still high up in the sky, the city busy, and still not even close to the things he used to see in New York.

He's been in Los Angeles for about four hours and yet he misses New York more than anything.

A ping on his phone catches his attention and Timothée notices an email from the realtor, which he opens almost immediately. He reads it carefully, a wide smile spreading across his lips as the fact his offer for the old building downtown has been accepted, his excitement for being in Los Angeles coming back like an avalanche. He reads the email once more, carefully going through every detail specified there and then starts writing a response, not only to thank Gen for her help, but also to ask a few remaining questions.

Part of the reason why he left was because he wanted something that was only his and now, after all the stress he went through, it seems like his day has finally come. With the building on his name, it would only take him a few months to get his restaurant up and running, customers filling up the tables, friends talking in the bar, all while he takes over the kitchen, doing what he does best. 

"Sir?," a voice says and he instantly looks up, smiling at the waiter, who sets his plate down. "Your shrimp pasta and Coke."

"Thank you," he nods, takes a sip of his drink and then grabs the fork, twisting the pasta around it before taking it in his mouth. He takes his time, experiencing all the flavors in his mouth, a smile coming to his lips eventually. Being a chef, Timothée often found himself a bit underwhelmed by some of the food he had and was always pleasantly surprised to fully enjoy a meal.

And yeah, it might sound like he's being a bit too full of himself, but once you know what's good, it becomes almost impossible not to compare it with other things. And that didn't work only for food, but also for music, movies and sex, which was something he had been lacking the last few months.

He tries not to dwell on that thought for too long though, aware there are far more important things for him to focus his mind on right now. He has a house to furniture and decorate, neighbors to get acquainted with and most importantly, a restaurant to work on.

  
  
  


* * *

Timothée left the bistro shortly after one in the afternoon and walked back to his new home, his mind set on cleaning the entire place and starting to put every single furniture and decor on its righteous place. He started with the living room, progressed down the hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom, moved back to the kitchen and even swiped the small backyard patio. Once everything was clean, the part he actually enjoyed started and he got to create a new and cozy home for himself, setting the couch and armchairs close to the window, adding frames on the walls opposing the television and even a small rack where he placed some books and magazines, the old vintage cameras he had and even his record player.

Once he's finally done, he throws himself on the couch, staring up at the white ceiling as he debates whether or not to go out and take a peek at the night life of the city. After a few minutes contemplating his options, Timothée pushes himself up and rushes down the hallway to the master bedroom, going through his suitcases in search of something for him to wear. He throws some clean clothes on the bed, grabs his towel and walks to the bathroom, which is a bit smaller than he expected, but he can´t really complain. Compared to his old apartment, this house felt like a goddamn mansion.

He spends a couple of minutes in the shower, washing away all the dirt left in him from the cleaning, but also helping him relax. He had a busy day, traveling all the way from New York extremely early in the morning, setting in the new house, cleaning; he did in one day what felt like a week's work and all he wants is to end the day by doing something fun. He puts on his clothes, combs his hair with his fingers, grabs his wallet, phone and keys, heading out of the house straight afterwards. Timothée knew if he stayed there any longer, there was a good chance of him falling asleep in front of the television and that was not what he wanted. Not on his first night in Los Angeles.

There are a couple bars not too far from his neighborhood, some more crowded than others, but all with a very clean and yet stylish vibe. Timothée chooses the one who seemed less crowded, walks in and takes a seat by the bar, tossing a few pistachio shells on his mouth as he waits for one of the bartenders to give him some attention. When someone finally approaches him, it's a woman in her late twenties, her ginger hair in a messy braid, her nose filled with freckles and on her lips a light shade of red. Much like all the other bartenders, she is wearing a simple white shirt, which she clearly customized a little bit.

"What can I get you, man?"

"Rum and Coke, please."

"Just a second," she smiles at him, reaches for a glass and starts to prepare his drink right there in front of him. "I don´t believe I have seen you around the bar before."

"I just moved in."

"To the neighborhood or..."

"From New York."

"Well, that's a big change."

"Tell me about it," he thanks her when she slides the glass over to him, takes a sip and smiles wide as he feels the distinguished taste of the drink hit the back of his throat. "Anything I should know about the neighborhood?"

"That depends," she shrugs. "Are we talking about what exactly? This street is basically the most crowded one around here, we got some bars and nice restaurants, some art galleries and indie movie theaters. You sure as hell won't find the glamour of Hollywood around here, but we're also not that far from it."

"You mentioned restaurants," he says, watching as she nods. "Would you recommend me any one in particular I should go to?"

"I don´t go to many, to be honest. But I know there's quite a vast variety around here, but people are never truly satisfied, so there's always someone complaining how there could be more of this or that."

"That's great to hear."

"Is it?," she asks, cocking an eyebrow when Timothée nods enthusiastically. "Let me guess, you´re here to start your own restaurant?"

"I'm hoping so, yeah."

"Well, like I said, I don´t think I´m the best person to give you advice about which ones you should spy on," Timothée chuckles, shaking his head. "But I know the farmer´s market down the road is one of the best places to buy food in the city, you´ll find anything you need there to your restaurant. They have a very good variety of products and all with a really good price, so I´d check that out if I were you."

"Thank you, that is definitely gonna help me," he smiles. "Do you happen to have their address or something?"

"I do," she scoffs, reaching for her back pocket and taking her wallet in her hand. She searches through it, groans, but then smiles as she pulls out a small business card. "My friend works there and I always keep some of these with me to give out to anyone who might need them."

"Oh, I get it now," he takes another sip of his drink. "Your friend works at the place, that's why you think it's so cool."

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"Thank you anyway, this is really gonna help me out."

"No problem, man, I´m always glad to help a nice customer."

"I´ve barely finished my first drink, don´t you want to wait a little bit more before calling me nice?"

"I could," she tilts her head to the side, a cheeky grin on her face. "But something tells me you´re one of the nice ones."

"I´m flattered. Can you say that again, but make sure I am recording it? Might need to send it over to a few friends."

She laughs, pushes some stray strands of hair away from her face and leans on the counter, drying her hands in an old cloth.

"So, you got a name?"

"Timothée Chalamet."

"Fancy," she chuckles. "I´m Courtney."

"Nice to meet you, Courtney."

"Right back at ya," she winks. "Now tell me, is this restaurant of yours gonna be as fancy as your name or will mere mortals like me be able to get a table?"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée wakes up right after eight, but remains in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking back about his last twenty four hours. He left his family and friends behind, got into a plane and flew across the country to set a new home in California, a place he had never actually felt connected to, a place where he didn´t know anyone or anything and would have to start right from the bottom. Still, that felt ten times better than being stuck in New York, his thoughts focused solely on the things he had been through the last few months instead of his future. 

He sighs, rubs his face and pushes some of his hair back as he sits down on the bed, glancing out at the large windows above his bed. He smiles when he notices the Sun is high up in the blue sky, shining bright upon the street, which is already packed with people jogging and kids going to school. He pushes himself up from the bed, drags his body over to the bathroom and turns on the shower, stepping under it and allowing the warm water to wash away his tiredness and prepare himself for a brand new day. 

He exits the bathroom after a few minutes, puts on some clean clothes and crosses the hallway over to the kitchen, preparing himself some coffee. He still needs to go grocery shopping, fill up the pantries and cupboards with food, buy himself a new fridge and a cooktop, visit the new building where his restaurant will be and figure out what kind of changes and repairs he will need to work on.

The coffee machine stops once his mug is filled, the scent of coffee taking over the house and bringing a large smile to Timothée´s lips. He takes a couple of sips of it, grabs his phone and moves to the living room, sitting on the seat just above the window, so he can enjoy the sunshine and watch the streets. He goes through the news, checks his social media and then replies to a few messages from his friends and family, most of them actually coming from his mother, who is still worried sick about him. 

By the time he finishes his coffee, Timothée notices it's almost nine, so he quickly gets up, rinses the mug and places it on the drying rack. He grabs his wallet and jacket, puts it on and heads out of the house, locking the door behind him. He nods at some of his new neighbors, smiles as some kids run past him on the sidewalk and glances down at the small business card Courtney gave him the previous night, checking the right address to the farmer´s market.

Coincidently, it's the exact same place he saw on his cab ride home from the airport and it happens to be only a couple blocks away from his house, which makes things a lot easier for him. While he never gave up on buying things in supermarkets, Timothée always loved to spend hours on end in the farmer's market, appreciating every little thing they had to offer. He had made good friends on the one near his apartment in New York and could only hope that he was able to meet nice and interesting people here as he did back home.

He walks in and is immediately met with a large tent selling berries, the elderly woman taking care of it, hiding under a large hat. He chuckles, stops by to take a good look at the fruits and grabs a strawberry, taking a bite of it and smiling wide. He asks for the price, orders two small boxes and hands her the cash, placing the bags on his own one afterwards. He then spots a small tent with flour and other grains, right beside it there were bananas and other tropical fruits he didn't get to see as often as he would like.

Surprised by the size of the place and variety of things he was finding there, Timothée stands in the middle of the market with wide eyes and a beaming smile. If he could get a deal with some of those farmers, he could score nice food for his restaurant and work with much fresher ingredients, which always resulted in better meals. He spots a large tent with an incredible variety of products, walks over to it and goes through some of the items there. He spots a few small plastic bags and takes one in his hand, bringing it to his nose as he realizes it's seasoning, a mixture of salt, pepper and other spices.

"...no Jeff, I don´t think you´re stupid, but you sure as hell ain´t making any sense right now."

The man´s voice catches Timothée´s attention and he glances to the side, spotting who he can only assume to be the owner of the tent on the phone, his back facing him and a pen dangling from his fingers. He seems stressed, which is not exactly what Timothée expected to see there that early in the morning, but he knows how troubling a job can be, so he tries his best to maintain silence and allow the man to finish his conversation before asking any questions.

"Like I said before, I can´t have it there before three in the afternoon, which is when I finish here at the market and do the deliveries," he explains over the phone, which immediately sparks Timothée´s interest. "You´ll be my first stop, Jeff. Yes, I promise you. Alright, see you later."

As the man finishes the call, Timothée quickly moves his eyes down to the bag of seasoning once again, trying not to look like a creep for staring at the man while he solves his problems. He reaches out for a cucumber, twists around in his hand, squeezes it softly and then places it back down, his eyes finding the beautiful cabbage that lies a little further down the bench.

"Can I help you with anything, Sir?"

"How much for the seasoning?," he asks, finally looking up at the man, who now that is much closer seems so tall and broad, Timothée is slightly intimidated. He blinks a couple of times, notices his stubble and hair, his tanned skin and most importantly, the deep blue eyes that stare back at him with so much intensity, he nearly feels his knees buckle.

"Two dollars the bag, if you buy the box with ten, we can make it for fifteen."

"That sounds a bit pricey."

"Sir, I can guarantee this is made with the best ingredients you´ll find in the market, not to mention the care that is put into every one of those little bags to make a unique flavor. This is worth every penny and I´m so certain you´ll like it, I´m willing to bet you on it."

Timothée scoffs, amused by the man's attitude and the stance he takes as he explains his product. Yes, he sounds a bit full of himself, but he also does sound like a man who knows exactly what he is selling and is proud of it, which is something Timothée can relate to.

"I´m certain your product is incredible, Sir, but it still feels a bit too much for me. Maybe, we can work on an arrangement?"

"That depends," the man smirks, leaning against the wooden structure. "Are you planning on buying anything else?"

"That depends," he mirrors his words, a cocky smile spreading across his lips. "How much are you gonna rob me for them?"

"Rob you?," the man goes silent for a moment, then inhales deeply and stands straight, his hands gesturing to all the vegetables, fruits and grains on his tent, all of which are looking incredible. "Sir, I don't know where you come from or what you´re used to buying, but I can guarantee to you these are some of the best things you´ll find in Los Angeles. My family has been in this business for over sixty years and we never had any complaints about our products not being good, up to date or at an extremely fair price. So, you can either try it out for yourself or save us both the stress and just move along somewhere else."

"Is that how you treat all your customers?"

"Only the ones who accuse me of robbery," he smiles and even though it's a fake one, Timothée has to admit it's quite beautiful. He can only imagine what his true, natural smile might look like. "So, what's it gonna be?"

"I´ll take two," he says with a shrug, choosing another little bag from the selection and handing it over to him. "I´ll also take two cucumbers and a pack of all purpose flour."

"For someone who thought I was stealing from them, you sure want a lot, huh?"

Timothée simply rolls his eyes, leans his hip against the stand and waits until the man packs everything in a paper bag and hands it over to him. He gives him the money, waits for his change and gives the man a quick nod before walking away from his tent, hearing his cheerful voice echo as someone else approaches him. Timothée glances over his shoulder, notices the way the man talks to an elderly lady. 

He stops by another tent, grabs some vegetables and while he waits for the vendor to check the change, Timothée brings the paper bag from the grumpy vendor closer to his face, seeing the logo that is printed in the middle, Hammer Farm written in big bold letters and the illustration of a farm underneath it. 

"Hammer," he whispers, his eyes wandering from the bag to the stand, where the man enthusiastically talks to an old lady.


	2. Californian Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not so pleasant encounter

Timothée looks out of the window the entire ride, the neighborhoods changing every few minutes, different architecture structures coming alive as he tries his best to fully absorb everything that surrounds him. He's in Los Angeles for a little over twenty four hours, but he's already learning to like -is too soon to talk about love- some of the things he sees around town. Despite the weird encounter he had with the vendor at the farmer's market, everything and everyone he crossed paths with so far had been nothing but lovely.

As the car comes to a stop, Timothée sighs, staring at the two store house in front of him, the place where in a couple of months he will be opening his restaurant. He smiles, a sense of pride consuming him as he realizes this is actually happening, that his dream is a lot closer than he expected. And sure, there will be a lot of stress along the way, he is fully aware of that, but that's part of the journey and it's what's gonna make the whole experience even more fulfilling once he looks back at these moments in a few years time.

He thanks the driver, tucks his phone on his jean pocket and then gets out, inhaling deeply. The neighborhood is exactly what he pictured when he thought of Los Angeles, even if there are less palm trees than he expected. He chuckles at that thought, takes a quick glance down the street and notices there's a gym, a couple offices, a delicatessen, a couple clothing stores and at least two other restaurants. And while some might be intimidated to start off with what might seem an already established competition, Timothée knows being close to other restaurants might actually get people to notice him quicker.

"Timothée!"

He turns around the moment he hears his name being called and smiles when he sees Gen, the realtor who helped him with the house and restaurant, walk over to him, a large smile on her lips. She brings him in a hug, her perfume lingering on him, which almost makes him sneeze.

"I'm so glad to see you again," she takes him by the arm, leading him towards the building he now can call his. "I hope Los Angeles is treating you right."

"I've been here for a little over twenty four hours, so I doubt I have much to say, but so far so good."

"You're going through a big transition moving from New York to here, but I think as soon as you get started with work, you'll get used to it to everything much quicker."

"That's what I am hoping for."

"Anyway," she holds onto the doorknob, her big black eyes locked on Timothée. "You ready to see the headquarters of your first restaurant?"

"You have no idea."

"Then come with me."

Timothée follows Gen inside the building, his eyes wandering around every single corner, paying close attention to everything he is able to see. The place is spacious and has been used for other purposes before, so there won't be that much breaking to do, even if there will still be quite a few changes to be made in the place. He smiles, fingers running through his hair as he takes a few steps further into the building, in his head a perfect image of the restaurant coming to mind.

"So, I hope it is everything you thought it was."

"It is," he assures her. "You did a great job, Gen and I can't thank you enough."

"A few free meals and I'll be happy."

Timothée chuckles, but nods his head. "When can I start working on the place?"

"You'll sign the final papers today, I'll get everything done and if the guys at the notary office don't take too long, you should be able to start your work here by the end of the week."

"That sounds good."

"Do you know any construction business that can help you with it?"

"Not really," he shakes his head, leans against one of the windows and watches the street. "I've been doing some research though, so I got the name of some places I will call and have it come over to do a budget."

"I can send you some of my contacts too, people I know are good workers and can get things down in a short amount of time."

"That would be lovely."

"I'll text you them all later," she explains, while gesturing for Timothée to follow her. She takes him to the back, where there's a small garden that could easily be renovated to receive some tables and maybe even have it as a spot he can rent for parties. "What about suppliers?"

"Same thing, going through some names, trying to see what looks best for me, even if that isn't a priority right about now."

"There's a farmer's market not far from your house, I know quite a lot of restaurants and hotels that get their supplies from there. Look for the Hammer Farm, they have some of the best products you'll find."

"Yeah, I had the chance of meeting the guy responsible for the tent," Timothée wrinkles his nose. "Not exactly the greatest of introductions, to be honest."

"Really? He's usually such a sweetheart."

"Then I simply wasn't lucky enough."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After signing up the papers and saying his goodbyes to Gen, Timothée walks downtown, taking his time to get to know a bit more about the city he now calls home. The shops are mostly packed, in every single corner he sees a tourist, camera on hand and goofy smiles as they stare at some famous building. He eventually makes it to Hollywood Boulevard, where he finds himself a place to sit down and enjoy a nice meal.

Despite his love for New York being quite latent still, Timothée has to admit Los Angeles has its beauty and even if he's not in the city for long, he can slowly start to see its appeal. The sunshine and higher temperatures is definitely one of the highlights, even if he enjoyed the cozy feeling of being locked inside his apartment, watching as the snow fell down the street. Now according to most people he talked to, he should be lucky if he got to see rain often. He spots a few teenage girls on the opposite side of the street, two of them posing as another one snaps photos of them. He can't help but smile, his sister's words repeating themselves in his head over and over again.

While Pauline was supportive of his move, she also took advantage of the situation to make fun of Los Angeles and its celebrity culture. And sure, he could tell a part of that stereotype was true, but Timothée had also seen enough to know there were common people walking those streets, people just like him, who were simply trying to find their place in the world. 

He finishes his meal and orders a Uber, waiting outside the restaurant for the car. He squints his eyes everytime a car approaches, trying to read the plaque, but finds himself waiting for nearly five minutes for someone to finally show up. He gets in the car, eyes down to his phone the entire ride, scrolling through his social media, replying to messages from his friends and doing research on constructors and the best suppliers he could find for his restaurant. 

He saves some of the phones and websites he finds, makes a mental note to look these people up later on and then locks his phone, putting it away for the rest of the ride. He looks out of the window, watching the Los Angeles life pass him by, his green eyes focused on absolutely everything they lay on. Once he finally arrives home, even if the house doesn't yet feel like one, Timothée thanks the driver and quickly gets out, heading inside and locking the door behind him.

He sighs, plows himself down on the couch and turns on the television, flipping through the channels in search of anything he can focus his mind on for more than two minutes. He switches to Netflix, finds an old comedy series and hits play, allowing himself some relaxation. The past day and a half have been busy ones, he really could use some time for himself.

* * *

  
  
  


It's almost five in the afternoon when Timothée wakes up, his green eyes wandering around the living room and stopping by the window, from where a bit of Sun still shines through. He yawns, pushes himself to a sitting position and stretches out his arms, quite surprised he managed to sleep for almost three hours straight. Maybe the stress of moving and getting an entire house furnitured had taken a bigger tool on him than it seemed.

He gets up, drags himself to the kitchen, but stops in the middle of it, a groan escaping him when he reminds himself he still doesn't have a fridge and the small cooler by the side of the dinning table doesn't really have much more than milk, water and a can of soda. He opens the cupboards, frowns as he grabs the already open -and half eaten- package of Oreos and takes two, biting one of them on his way back to the living room.

He sits down, opens his laptop and turns it on, reaching for his phone while he waits until it is properly working. He goes through his apps, finds the delivery one and scrolls through a dozen different restaurants, trying to find something that sparks his interest. He spots a sandwich place and quickly makes an order, happy to see it shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes for it to arrive. While he eats his Oreos, Timothée opens a tab on the computer, searching for the best suppliers in the area. 

He's not entirely surprised when he sees Hammer Farm on the top of most of the lists he comes across, all the reviews about their product incredibly good and not one complaining about price or the moody salesman. He bites his lip, chuckles as he remembers their banter earlier that day, admits he might have been a bit harsh with the man, but then shakes his head, aware it's a bit too late for that now.

He clicks on their website anyway, impressed to see how modern it is; it has photos from the farm and products, a small compilation video of their harvest, a list of all the places one can find their product and obviously, the address to the farmer's market where they seemingly have made their name. Timothée clicks on some of the photos, reads their entire history and finds himself extremely surprised by the willpower of this family, who basically turned a small and nearly decrepit farm into a Californian empire.

"Hope I'll be as lucky as they were," he mumbles to himself, scrolling further down the website, the photos of all the vegetables and grains they produce mesmerizing. He notices there's a visiting schedule twice a month and smiles, suddenly very intrigued with the idea. 

He's distracted by the doorbell ringing though, jumping up from the couch as soon as he remembers he ordered food. He rushes to the door, takes his package and thanks the delivery man, kicking the door behind him. He opens the paper bag, a wide smile on his face as he takes the sandwich out of the bag and sets down on the coffee table before rushing to the kitchen and taking the soda out of the cooler.

"Guess I really need to go shopping now."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The Sun is shining bright in the cloudless sky, the beautiful and warm Monday morning instigating people to come out of their houses a bit early, and enjoy every single second of the day. Timothée does exactly that, wakes up early, puts on his clothes, grabs his laptop and walks out, hunting the neighborhood for a place he can sit down to have breakfast and do some work. 

There is still quite a few things he needs to do, buy a fridge and a new stove, paint his bedroom in a color other than the weird yellow shade it currently is and stop by the grocery store to buy some things to fill up his pantry, which right now looks nothing like the one of a man who calls himself a chef.

He finds a small little coffee shop not that far away from his block, walks in and places his order, waiting by the counter until the barista slides a large cup of coffee and a plate with a croissant down his way. He thanks her, takes it in his hand and walks to one of the few empty tables, setting his things down before turning on the computer. 

His table is right under a large window, which he thinks it's incredible. Not only does he get some sunlight, but he can also watch as the streets of Los Angeles become crowded with people; nothing like he would see in New York, obviously, but still a lot more busy than he expected to be. He smiles at a few kids who run past him, then turns his attention back to his computer, checking his email first and foremost.

He has reached out to a couple of friends from New York, people who also worked on the business and had connections all around the country, people that could definitely help him find the best places to supply his restaurant here in Los Angeles. He checks every single email, writes down on a notepad some names, addresses and telephones, makes sure he asks every single question he can, just to guarantee he won't have many problems to solve in the near future.

He takes a few bites of his croissant, sips his coffee and leans back against the chair, eyes constantly moving back to the window, appreciating the city he is slowly starting to grow fond of. And sure, this is the start of his third day in Los Angeles, he still hasn't made any friends or really gotten to know his neighbors, but he can tell it won't be as difficult as he expected to settle down, call this place a home, even if he will always have New York in his heart and mind.

Once the phone starts ringing, Timothée snaps out of his thoughts, his eyes wandering down to the phone, which lies in the table next to the plate. A smile spreads across his lips as he sees his friend´s name light up the screen and he quickly reaches for it, already happy to hear a familiar voice. 

"Hey there, California boy."

"That´s a terrible nickname, Seth."

"But that's what you are now, right? Are you down on the beach? Getting some tan on that white ass of yours?"

"I haven't gotten anywhere close to the beach yet," Timothée replies between chuckles, his finger tracing the brink of the cup. "I have mostly stayed home or walked through the neighborhood."

"Just that? Not even a quick stop at a bar or some place fun?"

"I did stop at a bar on Saturday night, but I was way too tired from the trip and didn't stay for longer than forty minutes."

"That's lame, Timothée."

"Try staying up late after a flight from New York, specially when you´re stuck between a crying baby and a teenage boy who wants to spread out on the seat as if he was in his fucking house."

"I see it wasn´t the most pleasing flight of your life."

"I might be overreacting a little bit," he admits, scoffing. "But it could have been better, that's for sure."

"And knowing you, your brain was working on overdrive the whole flight there, right?"

"Maybe, but that's not really important right now."

"Okay," his friend says, a sigh echoing from the other side of the line. "So, how are you settling in? Is Los Angeles everything they say it is?"

"It's not New York, I´ll tell you that. But I think it won't be as difficult to settle in as I might have thought it would be, you know? People seem nice, at least the ones I have had the chance to talk to, the places I´ve been to have been pleasant and my new house is nearly double the size of my apartment back in New York. It might take me awhile to get used to this new life, but the sunshine sure helps make things easier."

"Next thing we know, you´re gonna have highlights in your hair and will be posting videos of you surfing with your new, tanned friends."

"Surfing? Me?," Timothée laughs, shaking his head. "Do you know me at all?"

Seth laughs on the other side of the line and Timothée hears his dog barking in the distance. He smiles, until this moment completely unaware of how much he actually missed the animal, who he had grown to love almost as his own.

"How's everything going over there?"

"Oh you know, it's hard to go on living without you here."

"Funny," he rolls his eyes.

"Things have been good, man, but it is kind of weird knowing I can´t simply stop by your place and have some beers or something like that, you know? I guess it will take some time for me to get used to this new lifestyle too."

"I miss you guys," Timothée nearly whispers. "But I had to do this."

"Hey, no need to tell me that, I know why you did what you did."

"Have you seen him anywhere?"

"Not really, I think the last time I saw him was that night you and I went out for dinner and he happened to be in the same burger place."

"Oh yeah," he sighs, takes a sip of his coffee. "Guy knows how to ruin my mood."

"Hey, he's in the past now and when you least expect you´re gonna have found yourself another guy to call yours."

"Thanks, but of all the things I have in mind right now, a new relationship is definitely not one of them," he assures his friend, his eyes locked on the window, watching as people crowd on the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street. "My main focus right now is settling in and getting my restaurant up and running, everything else is just background noise."

"If you say so."

"Oh, let me send you something real quick," he smiles, leans back and opens his phone camera, framing the contents of the table and the window on the screen and snapping a photo of it. "My view right now, can you believe it´s this sunny?"

"I´m telling you, man, it's a matter of time until you become a full time surfer."

"Fuck off."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée frowns, his eyes wandering from the can in his hand to the price tag on the shelf. He goes through other brands, picks another can in his hands and brings the two together, contemplating the differences and which one would fit better into his preferences until he finally settles down for one and tosses it inside the cart. He gives another quick glance around the row, making sure he has grabbed everything he needed there and moves along to the next one, quickly reaching out to a few bags of pasta and tomato sauce.

He stops by a small section of the grocery store with a different variety of rice, from the plain white one to over five different versions of wholegrain ones, which he takes in his hand and gives it a quick inspection. As someone who cooks for a living and has always loved to eat, Timothée always tried a bit of everything he ever came across and loved to try to discover new ways of cooking things. Still, he didn't quite understand why there was the need to have so many different types of rice.

"I´ll take this one," he mumbles, tossing the package over to the cart before grabbing a few other things along the shelf, always making sure to check the price and the expiration date. He backs up, doing his best to avoid the old lady who is going through some stuff on the opposite side of the row, but ends up bumping his cart on someone else anyway, a loud sigh escaping him as the man groans and takes a quick step back. "I´m so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

He trails off when the man turns around and he is met with the same pair of blue eyes he saw the previous morning. He scoffs, shakes his head as he realizes he is face to face with the vendor he argued with at the farmer's market and grips tighter onto the cart, watching as the man´s face goes from mad, to confusion and then plain annoyance.

"Of course it's you," he nearly whispers, nodding towards the cart. "Might want to check your cart and make sure I didn't steal anything from it."

Timothée rolls his eyes, sighs and then takes a few steps closer to the man, trying his very best to put a smile on his lips. "Look, I admit I might have been a tad bit arrogant with you yesterday, but I never meant to call you a thief or anything."

"Is this how you usually apologize to people?," he wonders, cocking an eyebrow. "Because I hate to break it to you, but it's not exactly the best excuse I've heard in my life."

"You certainly don't make it easy."

"Should I?," he questions, one hand resting on his hip while the other grips onto Timothée´s cart, in his face a slightly amused expression. "I mean, you said I was trying to rob you, then you nearly run over my foot, makes a really lame ass apology and I'm supposed to just accept it?"

"Look, I already said I´m sorry, I don´t know..."

"Actually, you didn't say you were sorry. You admitted to being a bit of a jerk to me yesterday morning, but you never really said you were sorry for what you said."

Timothée stares at the man for a while, unsure if he should be mad for the way he's talking to him or amused by his personality and attitude. Eventually, Timothée sighs, closes his eyes for a second and counts to ten, only to force a smile afterwards.

"Okay then, I am sorry for how I spoke to you yesterday and for implying you were trying to rob me. I´m new here, I´m still trying to get used to a couple of things and as I have noticed, the price of your seasoning is actually quite reasonable."

"I should have known," he mumbles, between short chuckles.

"You should have known what?"

"That you were not from here," he replies. "Your attitude, your accent, of course you´re not from here."

"It seems like you got me all figured out, huh?"

"Not really," he shrugs. "It's not like I'm trying either...or want to, for a matter of fact."

"You know what? I take it back, I´m no longer sorry for what I said. You called me a jerk for a simple mistake and yet you act like this when all I'm doing is trying to apologize," he shakes his head, exhales deeply and glances over at the man one last time. "They said Los Angeles people were warm and welcoming, but I guess you´re the exception to the rule."

He forces a smile, grabs his cart and walks away, making sure this time the wheels actually go through the man's feet, making him yelp in the middle of the aisle. Timothée chuckles, glances over his shoulder and watches as the man stands there, face flushed and jaw clenched while he watches him walk away. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It's nearly four in the afternoon when Timothée makes it back home with his shopping bags, places them all on top of the counter and sighs, eyes wandering through the kitchen as he prepares himself to start the next part of the work, which is to put everything in its place. He grabs a bottle of water on the cooler, which should be leaving the kitchen by the next morning if the guy at the store he bought his new fridge wasn't playing with him, takes a few sips of it and sits down on one of the stools, glancing over the tiny window that allows him a peek into the neighbor's backyard.

He can see them moving around, carrying plastic tables and chairs, while a five year old child runs around with a couple of twinky lights on her hands and a huge smile on her lips. He observes them for a moment, chuckling as the girl drops the lights down and takes one of the ends in her hands, running around the backyard with the lights meandering behind her. He instantly remembers the days him and Pauline would be at their grandparents' old house, running around the backyard, yelling and laughing, everything they saw turning into a toy or a source of entertainment.

With a sigh, Timothée hops off of the stool and starts unpacking his things, laying it all on the counter before he shoves all the bags inside a drawer. He starts slowly, trying to figure out where each thing should go, the ones who should be at an easier access, the ones that can be kept further away from his reach. It takes him almost half an hour, but eventually he makes it through it all, his body spent from being up and running ever since early in the morning. 

He takes the bottle of water once again, drags himself over to the living room and throws himself down on the couch, feet up on the coffee table as he goes through his phone. The doorbell rings and he glances over his shoulder, a frown forming on his face as he notices through the glass two figures standing there. He sighs, pushes himself up and walks over to the door, a small smile on his lips as he sees his neighbors standing there, exactly the two he happened to be spying on from his kitchen.

"Hi, we hope we´re not bothering you."

"No, of course not," he smiles, standing his hand out. "I´m Timothée, can I help you with anything?"

"I´m Lauren and this is my husband Greg," the woman says with a smile, her black hair tied up in a high ponytail. "We noticed you just moved in and we´re having a little party for my daughter's sixth birthday tonight, so we thought of inviting you."

"We thought it could be a good way for you to get to know some of the people in the neighborhood," the man explains, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh," Timothée bites his lip, extremely flattered with the proposal, but unsure of what to say back. "Thank you for the invite, but I don´t have..."

"C´mon, you don't even have to worry about a gift."

"Are you sure? Because six year old me would be really mad if someone stopped by my party without a present."

Lauren chuckles, nodding her head. "True, but I'm pretty sure she will understand. She actually saw you yesterday and asked if you were coming to her party too, apparently she thinks you´re cute and looks like a Disney prince."

"Well, you´re making it very hard for me to say no."

"Then don't," Greg quickly replies. "It starts at seven, just our neighbors and a couple of family friends."

"Okay then," Timothée nods, a wide smile on his face. "Should I bring anything? Wine or beer?"

"I´ll never say no to anyone who wants to bring beer," Greg jokes and Lauren shakes her head. "But you don't have to worry about anything, we might have even more food than necessary."

"We´ll see you later then," Lauren smiles, shaking hands with Timothée once again. 

"Yeah, I´ll see you later," he replies, watches as they cross the lawn back to their house and then closes the door, his smile nearly hurting his cheeks. A kid's birthday party wasn't exactly what he thought would bring him and his neighbors close, but he is certainly happy it happened.

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée arrives at the party shortly after seven and notices the backyard is already quite crowded; apparently people in Los Angeles were a bit more punctual than people in New York, or the fact most of the guests were neighbors really didn't give people margin for error. He smiles at the decorations, notices the twinkling lights the girl was carrying earlier are now decorating the back of the house and some of the trees.

He walks further in, notices a table with candies and a large cake, six bright pink candles on top of it. He chuckles, glances around the backyard in search of his hosts and spots them on the opposite side of the yard, talking to a woman who lives just a few houses away from his. It takes them a while, but they eventually see him and smile, rushing over to his side with the birthday girl trailing behind.

"Timothée, you made it."

"You guys made it quite hard to say no," he smiles, hands a bottle of wine to Greg, who thanks him. "And this is the birthday girl, I suppose?"

"Yes, our daughter Ella."

"Ella," he kneels down, standing his hand out for her, whose shyly shakes it. "Is a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Your party looks incredible and your dress is really pretty, my sister actually had one similar to this when she was around your age."

"Really?"

"Yes," he replies, just as enthusiastic as the little girl. "And she loved it."

"I love mine too," she beams, glancing up at her mother. "My mommy bought it for me."

"You and your mommy have a great taste," he winks, pats her head and then gets up, taking a quick look around. "Thank you again for inviting me."

"No need for that, we´re glad to have you here with us."

"And please, make yourself at home," Greg quickly adds. "Over there we have sandwiches, hot dogs, popcorn and a bunch of other little treats. You can get any drink you want at the cooler and just sit down wherever feels best for you."

"And please, call us if you need anything," Lauren assures him.

"Thank you," he smiles, giving them a quick nod before they wander back inside the house and Ella rushes over to one of her friends. He sighs, keeps himself in place for a while and simply takes in his surroundings. Most of the people seem to already know each other, talking, laughing and sharing tables, only a handful of others feel slightly out of place and he can only assume those are the family friends Greg and Lauren had mentioned. He bites his lip, checks his phone and then walks over to the food table, his eyes scanning the whole thing before he reaches out for a ham and cheese sandwich, which results in him bumping arms with someone else.

"Well well well, if it isn't the man who tried to get me crippled."

Timothée freezes, cocks an eyebrow and then takes a step back, slowly raising his gaze until he's staring back at those blue blues that now seem to have been following him around.

"So we meet again."

"Great, just fucking great


	3. A Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neighborhood Pleasantries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love to read your reactions to our boys interactions so far and can´t wait to see what you think of what´s still to come to those two stubborn little guys.   
> Hope you all are safe and with your loved ones this holiday season and that 2021 might be a better year for all of us. Love you all :)

"Great, just fucking great," he nearly whispers, shaking his head. He lets out an exasperated sigh and sets the napkin with his sandwich down, arms crossed as he stares back at the man, who keeps a smug look upon his face. "What the hell are you even doing here?"

"Me?," he chuckles, shaking his head. "I happen to know Greg ever since we were little kids, I should be the one asking what the hell you´re doing here."

"You´ve got to be kidding me."

"No, I am not," he smirks. "So, what are you doing here? Planning on accusing anyone in the neighborhood of robbery?"

"Not that I owe you any explanation, but I happen to be Greg and Lauren´s new neighbor."

"I told them this neighborhood wasn't as good as it used to be anymore."

"God, are you always such an asshole?," Timothée rolls his eyes, turns back to the table and grabs his sandwich, adding a bit of mayo and mustard before taking a bite. He stops mid chew, glances at the man from the corner of his eyes and turns to face him, eyebrows cocked in an inquisitive look. "What? You´re just gonna stare at me the whole night?"

"I happen to have far better things to do than stare at you, man," he fakes a smile, reaches for a hotdog and takes a huge bite of it. "I do wonder though if I should reach out for Greg, who's a lawyer, and ask if I should sue you for defamation and abuse."

"Excuse me?"

"You called me a thief and then ran over my feet with a goddamn shopping cart, excuse me if I am at least wondering."

"It's interesting, you know, I´ve been told you were a nice person and yet I can´t fathom why anyone would..."

"Uncle Armie!," the scream cuts Timothée off of his speech and he immediately turns to the side, watching as Ella rushes over towards them and throws herself on top of the man, her small arms hugging his legs as he bends down to plant a kiss on top of her head. "I missed you, Uncle Armie."

"I missed you too, monkey," he whispers, taking her in his arms and placing a couple of kisses down her cheek and neck, making her giggle and squirm in his hands. "You're enjoying your party?"

"Yes," she nearly screams, hands gripping tightly onto his arms. "All of my friends came and I got a lot of presents, do you want to see them?"

"I'll check on them all later tonight, alright?"

"Alright," she smiles, then turns to face Timothée, who's been staring at them for the past two minutes, unable to control the smile that spreads across his face while watching them interact. "Timmy, have you met my Uncle Armie?"

"I have, Ella."

"He´s the best," she giggles as Armie chuckles. "He always brings me new toys and books, he drives me to the beach when mom and dad can´t and he has promised to take me to his farm."

"Really?," he nods, glancing up at Armie for a second, who keeps his eyes on Ella, tickling her. "Your uncle sounds like a great person."

"He is," she kisses his cheek, then hugs Armie as tight as she can before he sets her down on the floor and she runs off back to her friends. 

"Kids, so easily gullible."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"She thinks her Uncle Armie is an awesome human being."

"Because he is," Armie scoffs. "Not my fault if your New York ass can´t seem to hold a decent conversation with someone."

"How do you know I'm from New York?"

"I just figured," he shrugs, places a hot dog on a plate, adds some salad, chips and then smiles over at Timothée before walking away from him.

Timothée scoffs, shakes his head and simply watches as the man, who he now knows to be called Armie, walks away from him and sits down on a table along with some other people.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée takes one quick look in the mirror before exiting the bathroom, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Lauren and Greg´s house is much similar to his, the only major difference being they have a second floor, where judging by what Greg said, their bedrooms were located, while on the two rooms downstairs they prepared a spare bedroom for any possible guests and a playroom for Ella, who would often bring her friends over and have them for tea parties.

He smiles as he looks around, the house cozy and bright, paintings obviously done by Ella hanging on the walls and family photos on the shelves close to the television. He admits he might not know them enough, but they seem like great people and one happy family, who seems well integrated with their neighbors. Timothée can only hope in the future he gets to be the same, after all it is always nice to have people around that you can count on if anything happens. And since as of right now he doesn't have any real friends in Los Angeles, it would be nice knowing his neighbors can keep an eye on his house if he ever feels like popping on a plane and flying to New York for the weekend or something.

He turns around, notices Lauren is in the kitchen and walks over to her, waving shyly as she raises her gaze. "Hey there, you need any help?"

"Oh no, you don't have to worry, I got this."

Timothée frowns, notices she is chopping some onions to prepare more sandwiches and quickly walks over to her, leaning against the counter and instantly reaching for a knife and some tomatoes.

"Trust me, when it comes to food, I´m absolutely your guy to ask for help."

"Oh yeah, I´ve been told you are a chef."

"How did that get out there?"

She shrugs. "Well, you see, when we found out the house had been sold, the whole neighborhood was dying to get to know a little bit about the person who'd be moving in. Sadly, all we got from your realtor was that your name was Timothée, you´re a chef and that you were moving here from New York city."

Timothée chuckles, but can´t help but wonder exactly who of their neighbors were the one responsible for doing all the questions and most importantly, how much it took to get Gen to say something about him. As far as he was concerned, she was a pretty damn professional woman and didn't go around giving client information left and right. Then again, he knew the moment he arrived, people would start making questions and it wouldn't take much long for everyone to know stuff about him.

"I´m sorry if it's weird knowing we were all just asking about you," Lauren suddenly says, placing her knife down as she glances up at Timothée, who shakes his head. "But it's been a while since the house was for sale and we were starting to wonder if it would ever be sold, so when we heard it had been, we got a little curious."

"Don´t worry, I totally understand the curiosity," he smiles, placing the chopped tomatoes in a bowl. "It´s basic information also, it's not like you guys found out any major secret of mine or anything."

"I´m glad you´re not mad, I´d feel terrible if you did."

"No worries," he assures her. "Is actually nice knowing someone cares, back in my building in New York people barely spoke with one another, let alone take their time to make questions about a brand new neighbor."

"May I ask why you decided to move here?," Lauren asks, an inquisitive look in her eyes as Timothée bites his lip. "I mean, every single New Yorker I met loves that city more than anything else in the world and has absolutely no intentions on leaving, so I'm curious on what got you to move here."

"I needed a change," he shrugs, but takes a moment to figure exactly what to say. Is one thing having these people know he's a chef and that he came from New York, but the true reason on why he decided to let go of everything back home and move all the way across the country is something he isn't exactly ready to share with a bunch of strangers. "Things were not working out as I wanted or expected back in New York, and, well Los Angeles seemed like a good place to restart."

"Well, I hope you find what you´re looking for and can build a new, better life here."

"I hope so too."

"What about the neighborhood? What you think of us so far?"

Timothée frowns, but laughs as Lauren gasps. "I think you all seem pretty great and I look forward to actually getting to know more about each one of you."

"Great thing you decided to come to the party then," she says, tossing a piece of cheese into her mouth. "No better way to get to know people then a backyard party with booze."

"So I've been told."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The party seems to only get better as the hours pass and the kids get more excited with every new game they come up with, running around the backyard and dodging every single guest as they laugh and scream. Timothée seems to spend most of his time seated at a chair near the food table and the backdoor of the house. From there he has a privileged view of everything that happens and takes his time to observe every single neighbor that shows up, studying their behavior, noticing who they seem closer to and even exchanging a couple of words with them as they approach his table, but he also gets to laugh as the kids gawk at the cake and try to steal some of the candies. 

Thirsty, he pushes himself up from the chair, walks over to the small table where there's a few plastic cups and a bucket of ice, takes one and opens the cooler, taking a can of soda for himself and pouring all of its content into the cup before tossing the empty can on the garbage can nearby. He leans against the table, taking a couple of sips as his eyes wander around the backyard; he spots Armie not that far away, kneeling down on the floor as he chats with some people at a table, a wide smile on his face and his eyes wide and sparkly. It's weird how the man legitimately looks like a nice guy from the distance, but the moment they get close, nothing good seems to come out.

"Hey there," a voice says and Timothée immediately looks to his left, a smile spreading across his lips as he sees the twenty something year old woman standing beside him. "I´m Martha, I live across the street from you."

"Oh hi," he says, standing his hand out for her. "Nice to meet you, I´m Timothée."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Of course," he chuckles, nodding his head.

"We´re really glad you decided to come to the party, Timothée, we were all looking forward to getting to know a little bit more about you."

"I was looking forward to it too," he assures her. "I know I should have probably introduced myself or something, but I had so many things to do and think about ever since I got here."

"Oh no, no need for that, I can totally understand how overwhelming moving can be."

"It is, specially when you come from all the way across the country."

"Oh right, you´re from New York, right?"

"Born and raised."

"I went to college in New York, absolutely loved the city and the nightlife, but couldn't stay away from Los Angeles for too long."

"What university did you go to?"

"Pratt Institute."

"Oh nice, I went to Saint Johns."

"I visited there a couple of times, beautiful campus."

"It really is," he nods, a smile on his lips as he reminisces the great moments he had while there. "I absolutely loved the time I spent there."

"Don´t you miss it? New York, I mean."

"Right now I miss it like crazy, but I have faith that as time goes by and I start working, things will get better for me. I love New York and everyone I left behind, but it wasn't the right place for me any longer."

"I understand that," she smiles, leans against the table too and takes a few sips of her drink, her eyes wandering through the backyard. "God, he's so freaking sexy."

"What?"

"Armie, Greg´s best friend," she explains as Timothée bites his lip. "Ever since I laid eyes on him for the first time, I was completely hooked. He's so handsome, nice and such a hard worker, it's really not that easy to find people like him nowadays."

"Yeah, everyone around here seems to love him."

"Have you had the chance to talk to him?"

"Oh, I certainly did."

"Isn't he great?"

Timothée remains in silence for a moment, not really in the mood to crush this woman's dreams just because he happened to have a bad experience with the man.

"Yes," he finally says, a forced smile on his face, "he's great."

  
  


* * *

  
  


As it usually happens, after they sang happy birthday and the cake was served, most of the guests started to leave and by the time the clock strikes midnight, Timothée and Armie are the only ones left in the backyard, helping Greg and Lauren get everything cleaned. Timothée works on taking the twinkling lights off of the trees, Armie collects all the plastic cups and plates from the tables and grass, while Lauren puts any leftover food in small containers and Greg takes Ella, who was sleeping by one of the tables, in his arms and back inside the house. 

When everything is finally cleaned and the tables are back to the garage, Lauren thanks them both, giving each one of them a tight hug and saying her goodnights. Timothée stands still as he watches her walk back inside the house and close the door behind her, his body tired, but nonetheless pleased with the day he had. He expected to have another dull night, where he would sit in front of the television and watch Netflix until he fell asleep, but in the end he got to enjoy some good food and the company of his neighbors, who all seemed extremely nice and welcoming people.

He smiles to himself, takes a look up at the starry sky and then realizes with a frown that Armie is nowhere to be seen. He shrugs, tucks his hands in his pockets and walks down the narrow corridor that leads to the front yard, humming a song as he does so. He stops when he spots Armie standing by the sidewalk, eyes up to the sky and a cigarette dangling from in between his lips. Their eyes meet after a moment and Timothée swallows, trying to avoid his stare at any cost; for some reason his blue eyes seem to stare at him with so much intensity, he often finds himself slightly uneasy.

"Can I have one?," Timothée eventually asks, earning a weird look from Armie.

"Are you sure? I might have poisoned them."

"You can just say no, you know?"

"It´s a lot more amusing to see you get all flustered and red in the face," he muses, a little cheeky grin on his face as Timothée rolls his eyes. "I mean, I've angered people before, but you take things to another level."

"Glad to know I amuse you somehow."

Armie simply shrugs, takes another drag of his cigarette and blows out the smoke before he can reach into the package and take one out, handing it over to Timothée.

"Thank you."

He shrugs again, stares at Timothée while he glances around as if a lighter might abruptly appear and chuckles. He takes his out of his pocket, takes a few steps closer to Timothée and lights up his cigarette, their eyes meeting for a moment.

Timothée clears his throat, takes a step back the moment the cigarette is lit and stares out at the sky, a smile on his lips as he blows out the smoke. It feels nice to stand there and watch the night sky, see the stars light up the neighborhood in a way he didn't really get to see in New York, with all the buildings and clouds. 

He glances over at Armie, who seems to be doing the exact same thing as he and eyes him up and down, just now really noticing how tall and broad he truly is. He could easily manhandle Timothée, which is a good thing to keep in mind the next time he thinks of running a shopping cart over his feet. 

"What you staring at me for?"

"Huh?"

"What you staring at me for?"

"I wasn't staring at you."

"Of course you weren't," he scoffs, shakes his head and then sighs, throwing the last bit of the cigarette on the floor and stomping on it. "Good night, New Yorker, try not to insult anyone else."

"Don´t worry, I reserve that only for you."

Armie chuckles, nods his head and takes a quick look down the street before crossing it and getting into his car, a black Jeep that is parked just in front of Martha´s house. Timothée watches him drive away, bites his lip and then sighs, walking back to his house and closing the door behind him. He puts out the cigarette on the ashtray, closes the blinds and slowly makes his way over to his bedroom, ready to get some rest.

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sits quietly by the kitchen counter, a mug of hot coffee on his hand as he scrolls through his phone, checking his latest messages and the morning news, even if the latter has often left him feeling more depressed than informed. He takes one last bite of his toast, raising his gaze when the doorbell rings. He looks at the clock, wondering who would be knocking on his door before nine, but figures it might just be one of the neighbors.

Now that he had gotten acquainted with most of them, Timothée figured there would be visits quite often, which would have its downsides obviously, but he's certain he can learn to live with it. He hops off of the stool, exits the kitchen and crosses the living room, opening the front door only to see Gen standing there, a dark grey pantsuit, blonde hair on a braid and lips painted with a beautiful and light shade of red.

"Gen, what a surprise."

"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting you."

"No, of course not," he affirms while opening the door wider. "Come on in."

"Thank you."

"Is everything okay?," he inquires while closing the door behind him, a part of him still confused on why exactly Gen would be there so early in the morning. "Is something wrong with the contract?"

"No, I come bearing good news," she smiles, reaches into her purse and takes out a beige envelope, which she hands to Timothée. "All paperwork is done and now the building is officially yours."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, you can finally start working on the restaurant."

"Gen, this is amazing," he opens the envelope, takes the papers out and lets his eyes scan them, a proud smile spreading across his lips. He sighs, happy that he is slowly managing to get his life back in order, the ghosts of his recent past being put to rest. "Gen, you have no idea how happy you´re making me right now, I don't even know how to thank you."

"Thank me? I'm literally just doing my job."

"Maybe, but you still handled everything with so much care, made sure everything, both with the restaurant building and the house, matched my preferences, without being overly pricey. And you did all that in such a short amount of time and while I was miles away in New York, I really can´t thank you enough."

"You´re such a nice guy, Timothée, I was glad to help."

Timothée smiles, places the papers back in the envelope and then sighs heavily, still a tiny bit surprised that things are actually coming around and he is turning his dreams into reality.

"You want some coffee?"

"I'd love some."

"Come with me," he gestures for her to follow him and walks back to the kitchen, taking a mug from the cupboard and rinsing before he can fill up with coffee. He slides it over to Gen, who's taken a seat on one of the stools and then does the same, now sitting opposite from her. "I can´t believe I can actually start work in my restaurant now, I´ve been dreaming about this day for so long."

"I´m happy for you, but I hope you are aware that the hard work starts now, you´ll have to talk to so many people and make so many decisions."

"I know, I'm tired just thinking about it, to be honest," he chuckles. "I´ve been doing so much research ever since I landed here, looking for contractors, food suppliers, the best stores to buy equipment. It's nearly driving me insane."

"You know, I can give you a hand if you want."

"How?"

"The good thing about this job is we get to know a lot of people and with that a lot of connections are made," she explains, shrugging her shoulders. "I happen to know a few contractors, architects and people who work in the cooking business. If you want, I could reach out to some of them and see if they can help you in any way."

"That would be great, Gen."

"You´ll also need a permit from the fire department and it just happens that my brother works there, so I'll send him your contact and you guys can discuss the best date to do an inspection."

Timothée shakes his head, almost unable to believe he's been blessed with this. He leans further on the counter, takes Gen´s hand in his and plants a soft kiss on it.

"You´re a life saver, Gen, thank you so much for everything."

"Like I said, a few free meals and we´ll be good."

"Deal," Timothée smiles, reaching out for the coffee pot to refill his mug with coffee. Oddly enough, Timothée didn't really expect to find so much help so soon in Los Angeles, but it seemed like he was lucky enough to have some pretty awesome people around him, saved some exceptions, and after everything he had been through, he couldn't be happier.


	4. One Step Closer To Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A partnership?

Timothée pushes the door open, his green eyes instantly moving around the building, his lips curved into a smile. It took a while, minutes staring down at the contracts to actually down on him that this was in fact his, that he could do whatever he wanted with the building, turn into everything he ever dreamt of having. Back in New York he thought he had all figured out, that the life he was living was a good one and that the dreams he shared with the scumbag he used to call a boyfriend were perfect, but as he stands there in complete silence, Timothée realizes that he allowed someone else's dreams to take over.

He's perfectly aware no one's life is perfect, but ever since his life turned upside down, he realized that he was living a lie. Nothing was his, nothing felt like him or was made for him; looking back now, it was almost as if he was just a prop in someone else's life and he promised himself that he would never, ever, allow that to happen again. Not now that he finally has his hands on something that is completely his and no one can take it away, no matter how hard they try. 

He inhales deeply, spins around in place and takes the blueprints from his back pocket, his eyes scanning the papers for a brief second. He sits down on the floor, not even caring about all the dust, and sets the blueprints down on the ground, carefully examining them as he thinks about all the ideas he has for his restaurant and exactly how they could be put to practice with the space he has.

He grabs a notepad from his backpack, flips through the pages until he finds one that is clean and starts making a few notes and sketches, transferring his ideas from his brain to something concrete. Thanks to Gen, he had already set up a date for the fire department´s inspection and the contact of three constructors, all of them which had already texted him and agreed to set up a date to make a budget for the changes he wants to do in the building.

Now all he's got to do is actually decide which things will work better, how things will look and start working. And while the entire renovation of the building might take a few months, Timothée is simply happy he can actually do this instead of just dreaming about it. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The sun shines through the windows, illuminating the kitchen and bringing it the warmth of the day. One the counter, a few bowls are spread, in them spinach, walnuts, garlic, chopped onions and basil. The salt shaker is also there, side by side with the pepper and the large bottle of oil. On the stove, two large pans, one completely empty while on the other pasta is being cooked. The scents mix together perfectly, inundating the kitchen with a tender and delicious aroma.

Sitting in one of the stools, knife in hand, Timothée is talking with his sister, the phone leaned against one of the bowls so she can see his face while he keeps on chopping. They haven't talked or seen each other in days, which wasn´t exactly unusual, but the last few months they had spent so much time together it felt odd to be away from her all of sudden. It was even worse when he reminded himself that there are miles separating them.

"...and when do you get to start renovation?"

"I don´t know yet, but I'm already talking to a few constructors and engineers. I want to get things going as soon as possible, because not only I know it will take a while to get it all done, but also because eventually my money will run out and I need money to eat."

"You know you can count on me if you need anything," she assures him. "Mom and dad are also ready to help you with anything you might need, so don't worry about money."

"Look, I know I can count on you guys and Seth for whatever I might need, but I also want to make things on my own."

"I know that and I´m so proud of you for it."

"Thanks," he smiles, glancing over his shoulder at the pan. He hops off of the stool, stirs the pasta and takes one in his hand, squeezing gently before tossing it to his mouth. He turns off the stove, dumps the pasta in a strainer and sets it aside, taking the butter from the counter and dumping a part of it into a pan. "How are things going over there?"

"Apart from the fact you´re not here, things are pretty much the same."

"That's good... right?"

"I suppose so," she chuckles. "What are you cooking?"

"Pasta with spinach and walnuts."

"Oh, I want some."

"I'd send you some if I could."

"Someday I'll drop by in Los Angeles just to eat your food, brother."

"And I´ll be glad to cook whatever you ask me to."

"Is this a promise?"

"It can be," he winks, stirs the spinach on the pan until it shrinks and then adds the already chopped walnuts, adds a bit of salt, pepper and continues to stir for a few more seconds before dumping the pasta from the strainer inside, giving it a quick toss around until it's time to turn off the stove. He grabs a plate on the cupboard, sets on the counter and prepares his plate, a nice portion of the pasta with some fresh leaves of basil and shredded cheese on top. 

"Did you have to do this while talking to me? I´m really hungry now," she whines, looking around. "And I'm pretty damn sure the only thing I have to eat in this goddamn apartment is yoghurt and hot pockets."

"God, you´re a disaster."

"Hey, not everyone can be a chef, alright?"

"Oh, trust me, I know."

She rolls her eyes and leans closer to the screen, almost as if that way she would get closer to Timothée or his plate of pasta.

"So, besides working to get your restaurant up and running, what else have you been up to in Los Angeles? Any hot guys in sight?"

"Not really, but I'm not actually looking for anyone."

"Why not?"

"It worked out so well the last time, right?"

"Oh c´mon, not everyone is like Wes," she blurts out, letting out a sigh afterwards. "Sorry."

"Saying his name won't kill me," he takes some pasta in his mouth, licking his lips after he swallows it all, surprised at himself at just how good it tastes. "But it's not just because of what happened with him, it's also the fact I have other things to prioritize right now, you know? My restaurant, rebuilding my life in a different city, I rather make some nice friends than get romantically involved with anyone right now."

"Alright then, have you made any friends?"

"My neighbors and my realtor, they have all been very nice and offered to help me with anything I might need. I was even invited to a kid´s birthday party last night, which was awesome, if not for an unpleasant guest."

"What unpleasant guest? Did someone drink too much?"

"No, it's just this guy I've been running into for a few days now and whenever we see each other, we argue."

"Oh, really?"

"Don´t look at me like that," he protests the moment he sees the smirk on his sister's face. "He's just this annoying guy, who clearly thinks too much of himself and decided to make my life a living hell."

"And he is also your neighbor?"

"Oh no, he's my neighbor´s childhood friend."

"That's how you keep bumping into one another?"

"No, he works at the farmer's market, so that's how everything started, then we happened to run into each other on the course of the last few days. Nothing for you to think too much of, though."

"I'm not even saying anything."

"But I know you're thinking."

"You're psychic now?"

"When it comes to you?," he smirks, "yes, I am."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée stands in front of a wall filled with the most insane variety of pans he has ever seen in his entire life, different colors and shapes, sizes and materials, everything that would leave a chef like him with their heart beating faster and their eyes glowing, which is precisely what is happening at the moment. He smiles, reaching out a hand to touch the pans closest to him, the matte black exterior a contrast to the beautiful copper interior, which leaves Timothée in awe.

He had been to incredible places in New York, which had a vast selection of pans and everything kitchen wise, but this was beyond anything he had ever seen before and he honestly couldn't be happier. He felt like a kid running to the living room on Christmas morning, excited to open the presents; or to be more in touch with his own childhood, a kid running up the stairs of their apartment building to make it home before Dragonball Z started on the television.

He takes the pan in his hands, analyzes every single corner of it, runs his hand through the handle, the inside and outside, making sure he feels and sees every single detail there is. He places it inside the shopping cart along with the other three he had already picked around the store, glances around the place and nearly gasps as he sees all the mixers and spoons displayed on the wall opposite from him. 

Timothée quickly rushes to the wall, taking a few of them in his hand and inspecting it before adding to his cart, which he glances at it only to realize he has already filled it almost to the brink. He exhales, leans against the cart and starts moving through the things he has selected, wondering if there´s possibly anything he could leave behind. Sadly for him -and his credit card-, there isn't anything he is willing to give up on, so he simply sucks it up and walks to the cashier, politely asking the woman if his shopping can be delivered.

It's becoming clearer that he won't be able to go on in Los Angeles without a car and while Timothée knows how to drive, and does it quite well he has been told, he would rather not have to do it. Growing up in New York, he spent most of his time using the subway or simply walking to the places he wanted to go, considering most of the things he did were not that far away from his own neighborhood, but here things were different and he could easily see a car in his future, whether he liked the idea or not.

Once he exits the store, taking with him a receipt of the purchase and the promise that his things would be delivered first thing the next morning, Timothée walks down the street towards a small coffee shop he spotted on his way over. He walks in, places his order on the cashier and waits by the side, smiling at the barista when she hands him a tall glass of iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.

He takes it to the outside, sits in one of the empty tables by the sidewalk, shaded from the Sun under one the burgundy umbrellas, and takes a few sips of his drink, reaching for his phone as he does so. He has a few random notifications, some of his colleagues from New York commenting on his photos from Los Angeles, most of them surprised by the move. He notices a message from Gen and frowns, quickly opening, scared it might be some sort of bad news, but sighs in relief as he realizes it´s the complete opposite of that.

**_< gen/realtor>_ ** _ i talked to one of my architect friends _

_ sent him ur contact and asked him to text you _

_ hes a great professional _

_ and also quite cute ;) _

He chuckles, noticing how all of a sudden everyone seems to want him to find someone, even the people who don´t know that he has been through a breakup less than three months ago. He notices there´s another message underneath it, with the man´s contact and saves it on his phone, just to guarantee he won´t simply dismiss the man´s text for not knowing the number. He replies a thank you to her, turns off his phone and pockets it, leaning back on the chair as he drinks his coffee and watches the street.

* * *

  
  
  
  


It only takes Timothée a couple of seconds to notice that some of the stands are not the same as the ones on Sunday, most of the flower stands are gone, while there are obviously more with fruits and grains. He stops by a few, smells the fruits and inspects the vegetables, making sure it's all fresh. He talks with a few of the vendors, his smile always pleasant and welcoming as he takes his time to get to know a few of the people.

He buys himself a bottle of fresh watermelon juice, takes a few sips of it and glances around the area. He spots Armie's stand, the fruits and vegetables so colorful and inviting, it's almost impossible not to be entranced by it. He walks over, a part of him mad that he would still buy on his stand even after everything he has heard from him, but being as obsessed with food as he is, it would be crazy of him to pretend that Armie's stand didn't have the best products he had seen around.

He frowns when he notices Armie is not the one in the stand, but a young blonde girl with braided hair and red framed glasses. He smiles at her, who makes sure he knows she'll be with him as soon as she's done with the other customer and then focuses on the variety of fruits and vegetables he sees in front of him. He takes a few pears, apples and oranges, separates them all in a basket and then moves to the vegetables, smiling at the strong smell that comes from the spinach and arugula. 

"Hey, what can I help you with?"

"Hi," he smiles, handing the basket with his shopping to the young girl. "Do you have basil? I can't seem to find it anywhere."

"Just a second," she holds up her finger, kneels down and then reappears with a little bowl of plastic bags filled with basil. "How much would you like?"

"Two, please."

"Alright," she picks two bags, adds to his shopping bag and glances back at him. "Anything else?"

"That will be all."

The girl nods, takes a small pad and writes something down, only to turn around to reach for her phone straight afterwards. Timothée waits, his arms crossed as she watches her, only to sigh when he hears the now well known voice echo.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. New York himself," Armie starts in a singing tone, leaning against the stand as he stares at him, a cheeky smile on his lips. "I thought my products were too expensive for you?"

"Or maybe I just didn't want to buy them from you specifically, but since your employee here is such a nice person, I thought I'd give it a try."

"Sure," Armie smirks, glances at the girl, who now stands by his side, watching their exchange with a frown. "It's okay, Ash, I'll take it from here."

"Okay."

Armie smiles at her, takes the piece of paper she hands him and then glances back at Timothée, who stares at him with an eyebrow arched.

"So?"

"Eighty dollars."

Timothée nods, hands Armie the money and leans against the stand as he waits for his change, which comes only a few seconds later. He puts it in his wallet, takes the shopping bag from Armie and bites his lip, their eyes locked for a few seconds before he sighs.

"Thank you."

"Well, look at that, he actually knows how to be nice."

"I'm always nice," he fakes a smile. "With people who deserve."

"And I don't?"

"Well, for all it's worth, you could just go fu...," he looks to the side, notices an elderly woman standing there and clears his throat. 

"You were saying?"

"Goodbye, Hammer," Timothée rolls his eyes, swings the shopping bag over his shoulder and turns on his heels, walking away from the stand. He exhales loudly, trying to relax himself after yet another encounter with Armie that leaves him boiling with anger. He is just about to cross the entry when he hears his name being called, causing him to stop immediately. He frowns, looks over his shoulder and watches as Armie rushes over to him. "What now?"

"I know I've been giving you a hard time, but Greg mentioned you are working on opening a restaurant and might need some suppliers."

"Yeah, so?"

"So he thought we could help each other out."

"You and I working together?"

"No, not really, it's more like a partnership."

"Yeah," Timothée bites his lip, staring at Armie for a good minute before he forces a smile. "There's absolutely no way I'm gonna do any kind of business with you, Hammer."

Armie doesn't even flinch with the response, keeps his expression unaltered, although Timothée is almost certain he's seen a glimpse of a smirk.

"Are you sure?," is all he lets out after a few seconds.

"Yes, I'm pretty damn sure," he smiles, pats his shoulder and quickly turns around, heading off of the farmer's market without even looking back.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée breaths out, his eyes with a look of distress as he stares down at his coffee table, where a few dozen papers and business cards now lie. His laptop is open, every single tab in one different website as he tries to come up with a strategy that will get work on his restaurant to start. He feels powerless though, drowning in things he needs to solve and doesn't even know where to begin.

He bites his lip, buries his face in his hands and groans loudly, a part of him screaming that he should have thought this through before jumping into this new phase of his as if there was no tomorrow. He used to be the head of the kitchen, running everything effortlessly because the food was always his love and the thing he was legitimately good at, the bureaucratic work was always in the hands of Wes, even if he was aware of everything that went down at the restaurant. Or so he thought back then.

He shakes his head, inhales deeply and then slowly exhales, trying to clear his mind and push back any memories of Wes and what had happened between them. He was his own person, he was intelligent, talented and completely capable of doing this, even if it might take longer than he would have liked or expected. After all, no one said it would be easy.

He pushes himself up, takes his mug with him to the kitchen and fills it with water, heating up on the microwave. While he waits for the water, Timothée opens the fridge, scanning its contents in search for something he could eat. He grabs some cheese, chops into tiny pieces and adds a bit of olive oil and oregano, tossing a few pieces into his mouth once he is done. He smiles, finishes his tea and walks back to the living room, ready to face a couple more hours of work.

He sits on the floor, taking a few bites of the cheese while he scrolls through a few articles about Los Angeles's cooking scene, taking notes on all the tips people give. It doesn't take him long to cross paths with Armie's name, which is featured in a little article about how the farmer's market and the restaurants are coming together to create strong and healthy partnerships, which are not only good for them but also the customers.

Timothée stares at Armie's name in the article for a few seconds, remembers the offer he made him back at the farmer's market a couple of hours ago and sighs, finally realizing he might have made a huge mistake. While it was clear to him that he and Armie were not exactly made to be friends, Timothée had to admit his products were excellent and everyone seemed to have nothing but good things about him. His restaurant could only benefit from having him as his supplier and yet, because he simply couldn't stop himself, he blew off his opportunity. And judging by their previous encounters, Armie would nearly make him beg for forgiveness before agreeing to even talk about a possible partnership.

"Nice one, Timothée," he mumbles to himself, sips on his tea and reaches for his phone, frowning as he notices a couple more messages from Gen.

  
  


_**< gen/realtor>** i know its getting late _

_ but here r a few more contacts u might want to check it out _

_ yeah i know u said u and armie didnt get along _

_ but maybe u could give it a 2nd chance _

  
  


"Try fifth chance," he chuckles to himself, but copies his number anyway, a part of him contemplating the idea to text or call him. "It sure won't kill me."

He saves the number, opens a direct message with him and lets his fingers hover over the keyboard, thinking of the best way to start this without sounding like a complete lunatic. About five hours ago he completely dismissed the guy and his proposal, now he was trying to reach out to him? Somehow it seemed a bit stupid and needy, two things Timothée certainly didn't like to look like.

He shakes his head, closes the conversation without even saying a word and tosses his phone to the couch, focusing his eyes back on the papers in front of him. He's been in Los Angeles for less than a week and things were not just gonna solve themselves miraculously, he had to be patient and keep himself positive. He didn't need Wes to guide him and he most definitely didn't need Armie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update of the year. I want to thank you guys for being so supportive, for reading my stories and showing me so much love throughout this very crazy year. You guys are absolutely the best and I hope your 2021 is funnier, more joyful and overall better than 2020.   
> Love you all 💙💙


	5. Friendly Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A New Perspective

The sun shines bright in the blue Los Angeles sky as Timothée stands in front of the building, a smile on his face and a little black folder on his arm. It's been two weeks since he moved to Los Angeles and while he still had a lot of things to go through regarding the restaurant and the changes that needed to be done on the building, his life was starting to settle in and he was getting closer to his neighbors, specially Lauren and Greg, who had been incredibly helpful.

Back in New York, while he had a good relationship with most of his neighbors, he never really felt as connected and close to any of them as he does now. Slowly, he starts to realize that maybe this change was a lot more important than even he had expected to be. At first, Timothée felt like he was running away from something, then he settled for him just trying something new, but now, well now a part of him believes everything that happened was leading to this.

He sighs, checks the time on his phone and then walks inside the building, coughing a little bit at all the dust spread around the place. He shakes his head, opens the windows on what used to be the living room, allowing the sun and fresh air inside the building as he takes a quick look around. He has been there almost every single day the past week and a half, guiding constructor workers around so they can evaluate the place and work on a budget for the renovation. Luckily for him, things seemed to be going in the right direction and he was almost certain of what company was the best to access his needs.

"Good morning," the cheerful voice says behind him and Timothée immediately turns around, a smile spreading across his face as he sees Gen standing by the threshold. "How are you, mister?"

"Tired as hell, to be completely honest," he chuckles, leaning against the banister. "I´ve been working like crazy the past few days, but at least things are coming together and my project is moving forward."

"I´m so glad to hear that, I can see how excited you are for this restaurant to come alive and I hope things can move along a little bit faster from now on."

"I think they will. I'm about to seal the deal with a constructor company, I have found the perfect place to buy all the equipment and as soon as your brother gives me the green light, I´ll start working on this place as if my life depends on it."

"No pressure," a voice echoes and Timothée tilts his head to the side, watching as a tall, broad and dark haired man walks through the front door. "Good morning, you must be Timothée."

"Yes, that's me."

"I´m Jared, Gen´s brother and the guy who will decide whether you are gonna be able to get this thing going or not," he says, standing his hand out for Timothée, who shakes it. "But like I said, no pressure, right?"

"Well, maybe just a little bit?"

Jared chuckles, takes his backpack out of his back and opens the zipper, taking a black folder from it. He goes through the dozen papers inside, takes one out and fishes his backpack for a pen, writing something down quickly before his eyes land back on Timothée.

"So, you ready to start?"

"Yes, please."

"Don´t worry, everything will be alright," Gen assures Timothée as they follow Jared around the building, watching as he stops at random moments, eyes moving around every little detail in the place.

"I´ll be the judge of that, sis, so don't make promises you can´t keep."

Timothée frowns, glancing over at Gen, who rolls her eyes.

"That's his definition of fun."

"Lucky me...I guess."

Jared chuckles, stealing a quick glance at Timothée over his shoulder. He goes around the building with care and patience, inspecting every corner, tapping on doors and thresholds, stomping on the wooden floor and kneeling down to check for any ruptures or anything similar. It takes him around an hour to go through the entire building and the small backyard, his silence truly agonizing for Timothée, who watches him from up close and tries his very best to get a good look at whatever he writes down.

When he finally makes it back to the old living room and stops by the front door, Timothée has his eyebrows arched, his bottom lip turning pale from being bitten so hard. He has never felt so anxious about anything in his life and as Jared´s eyes scan the paper, he nearly screams in desperation.

"Is he still playing games with me?," he whispers, while leaning closer to Gen.

"Honestly, I´m not entirely sure of what he is doing."

"My job," he suddenly blurts out, glancing up at them with a little smirk. "I´m just going through my notes, which will be handed to the department, where we´ll work on the certificate that states this building is in perfect shape and you can actually start construction."

His words hang in the air for a moment and Timothée remains completely silent, his green eyes going wide as he actually processes the things he just heard. He blinks a couple of times, wets his lips and takes a few steps closer to Jared, his hands nearly shaking.

"Are you telling me that I can actually start working on my restaurant?"

"Yes, Timothée, you can start construction on your restaurant."

"Oh my God," he lets out a loud sigh, his smile so big his cheeks already hurt. "I can´t believe this is actually happening."

"Congratulations, Timothée," Gen smiles, pulls him in for a hug and gently pats his back. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you," he nearly whispers, still unable to believe this is happening. He turns to Jared, a hand landing on his shoulder, which he squeezes softly. "Thank you."

"I´m just doing my job," he assures him. "This place needs to get some things fixed, but the structure is actually quite good and I believe you´ll do the right improvements. We´ll come back once the renovation is done though, run through everything once again and make sure you´re good to open."

"Oh no, I understand. Still, just to be able to actually start work here is incredible and a dream come true." 

"I'm glad I could help then."

"Thank you."

"So," Gen wraps an arm around Timothée´s shoulder, bringing him closer to her. "How about you come out for lunch with us?"

"Oh, I would love to, but I already have plans with my neighbors."

"That's okay, we can reschedule for some other time," she assures him. 

"Maybe we could go out for some drinks tonight?"

"That sounds good to me," she smiles, glancing over at her brother. "What you say?"

"Yeah, that would be nice."

"Great, I´ll text you later and we´ll get everything sorted, alright?"

"I'll be waiting."

"Thanks for everything, guys, I truly appreciate your help."

"You´re welcome."

He gives Gen one last hug and then waves at Jared, who quickly mirrors his reaction, a smile on his lips. As they leave, Timothée notices him take a quick glance back at him and he can´t help but wonder if he's imagining things or if maybe, just maybe, Jared was slightly flirting with him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée rushes out of his bedroom, a hand running through his hair as he gives a quick look at himself in the hallway mirror before rushing over to the kitchen. He takes the chocolate pie from the fridge, reaches out for the plastic lid on top of the counter and places it on, taking a quick look around the place to see if there's anything he might have forgotten. He grabs the paper bag with the bottle of wine, takes the pie in his hand and walks to the living room, reaching for his keys on the coffee table before making it through the front door.

He stops by the front lawn, looking up at the bright sky with a smile on his face. While he was never the beach type, it felt good to feel the sun on his skin and enjoy the nice and warm weather for a change. Maybe in a couple of months -or weeks- he would eventually get bored and miss the grey New York sky, but as of right now, he was glad to have little moments like this one, where he could just stop and appreciate the warmth of the day on his skin.

He glances around the street, which is surprisingly quiet and notices a car parked in front of Lauren and Greg´s place, indicating at least one of their friends was already there. He looks down at his clothes, making sure they are presentable, then crosses the lawn, taking the three steps that lead to their porch. He rings the doorbell, chuckling as he notices a few of Ella´s drawings laying around, most of them containing fairies and princesses.

"Timothée," Lauren´s voice echoes, bringing him back to reality. "Hey, come on in."

"I brought a chocolate pie and some wine."

Lauren takes the pie in her hands, a smile spreading across her lips as she brings it closer to her face.

"Did you bake this?"

"I did," he smiles proudly. "It's one of my favorite recipes to make, simple and delicious."

"I might have to steal it from you then."

"No need for that, I'll gladly hand you the recipe."

"You´re an angel," she smiles, gesturing for him to follow her. "Can you please set the wine at the counter? I need to check on the potatoes, although now that you´re here, I´m slightly self-conscious of my cooking skills."

"Oh please, everything you did for Ella's birthday was incredible, so I trust that you are actually pretty good in the cooking department."

"I´m alright, but definitely not a chef like some people."

Timothée chuckles, walks over to the sink and washes his hand, drying off on a cloth he sees hanging by the fridge. "So, you want me to help you with anything?"

"Oh no, you don't have to."

"I've already told you, when it comes to cooking, I´m always glad to help."

Lauren smiles, glancing around the kitchen and then nods. "Okay, maybe you could work on the salad? I got most things chopped already, I just need to get everything together."

"Okay, I can do that."

"Also, if you want to give it a chef's twist to it, please, be my guess."

"Are you giving me the green light to wander around your kitchen as I wish? Because that might be something you´re not gonna be able to take it back, lady."

"My kitchen is your kitchen, use it as you wish."

"You´re creating a monster," he jokes while glancing around the place. He finds a large bowl in one of the shelves, takes it and places it on the counter so he can start working on the salad. He takes his time, adds everything Lauren had chopped and separated, but also makes sure to add some things on his own. 

He walks to one of the shelves, eyes scanning through all the seasoning there and then grabs one, adding it to the salad just as he hears a well known voice fill up the air. He stops, glances over his shoulder and watches as Lauren rushes over to Armie, engulfing him in a tight hug. Obviously, and the thought had just dawned on Timothée, when Greg mentioned having a few friends over Armie was definitely included.

"I´m so glad you managed to come," Lauren says while pulling away. "Greg told me you´ve been down at the farm the last couple of days..."

Timothée cocks an eyebrow, now understanding why he didn't see Armie the last three times he stopped by the farmer´s market. Not that he was looking for him, of course, he just thought it was weird that he wasn't around much when Greg -and everyone else who happened to know him- mentioned how devoted to that stand he was.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. New York."

"Hello to you too," Timothée scoffs, forcing a smile before he turns his attention back to the salad, although he stops when Armie suddenly stands right beside him, shoving his hand inside the bowl to reach for a piece of cheese. "Hey!"

"What? I'm hungry."

"So you shove your hand inside a bowl of food that everyone is gonna have?," he rolls his eyes, letting out a loud sigh. "Have you ever heard of manners?"

"Manners? No, I don't think so."

"You´re such an ass," he mumbles, takes the bowl with him and walks past Armie, glancing at Lauren, who's been watching their interaction with a little smirk. "Where should I put this?"

"Dining room table."

"Okay," he glances back at Armie for a second, notices he still has that condescending smirk plastered on his face and rolls his eyes, exiting the kitchen as fast as he can, which doesn´t stop him from hearing him and Lauren.

"Really, Armie?"

"What? He makes it so much fun."

* * *

  
  
  


Apart from Timothée, Greg and Lauren had invited other five people for lunch and still, with all the possible setups, he still managed to sit right beside Armie, who as always seemed to charm every single person in the room, telling anecdotes, laughing and always making sure to insert himself in any possible topic of conversation. And okay, Timothée could see why some people seemed to be affected by him, he truly seemed to care about what other people said, but he still couldn't find the will to like the guy.

But perhaps that's the way things were supposed to go between them, because it was also pretty damn obvious Armie only kept talking to him because he enjoyed pissing him off, which Timothée knew was something he had to work on. He had never met someone who so easily pushed his buttons, and while that was intriguing it was also slightly scary. He needed to work on himself, make sure that whenever Armie tried to drive him crazy for his own amusement, he remained calm and collected, like he had done most of his life.

"...and Timothée is now working on his own restaurant."

Timothée looks up from his plate as Greg says those words, a little embarrassing smile spreading across his lips as he feels all eyes on him all of a sudden. He was far from being the topic of conversation, so to suddenly become the focus of the dining table was slightly off putting. Although it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with.

"Oh really? What kind of restaurant are you planning on opening?"

"My restaurant doesn't really have a segment," he explains. "I love to cook and I think I'd never be able to settle for just one thing, you know? I plan on having extravagant and complex dishes, but also comfort food, like that plate of roasted chicken that takes you back to Sunday at your grandparents when you were just a kid."

"That's lovely, Timothée," Lauren smiles from across the table. "Hearing you talk about your love for food truly is heartwarming and I can´t wait to sit down at that restaurant and praise you, because I know it's going to be incredible."

"I hope so, but right now is just a bunch of numbers and research, annoying contractors and the very tiring task of finding the best place to supply the products."

"What about Armie?," one of Lauren's friends asks while reaching out to touch Armie´s arm, her perfectly manicured nails almost digging into his skin. "I can assure you his products are the best in town and also, if you ever have the chance, you must visit the farm, it´s the most beautiful thing I´ve ever seen in my life."

Timothée tries to force a smile, his hands slightly shaky at the moment. This is actually the first time he's in Armie´s presence ever since he said no to his proposal of them partnering and him working as a supplier for the restaurant; a moment that often comes back to haunt Timothée and make him question if he really made the best decision of his life. 

"Yes, I..."

"I already made a proposal to Timothée regarding that," Armie interrupts, glancing over at Timothée for a quick second before turning back to the woman. "But he kindly said no."

Timothée frowns, not entirely sure of why Armie, who just about an hour ago admitted that he loved to irritate him just glossed over the fact he bluntly, and not at all kindly, said no to his proposal.

"I guess he just didn't like my products as much as everyone else."

"That's not entirely true," he finally says, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Your products are really quite nice, I just want to make sure I evaluate all of my options before making a decision."

"I think that's fair," Lauren quickly chimes in and Timothée can see in her eyes she's doing her best to ease the situation. "These kinds of things take time and patience."

"Or maybe he simply doesn't like me," Armie muses, a cheeky smile on his face as he turns to face Timothée. "Right, Mr. New York?"

"I really feel like killing you right now," he says through gritted teeth, before forcing a chuckle as he glances around the table. "This guy."

"Okay, maybe it's time for dessert?," Lauren pushes herself up, nudging Greg gently as she asks him to take off the plates. "Timothée baked this beautiful chocolate pie for us and honestly, I´ve been dying to take a bite of it ever since he arrived."

"Oh, so we´re gonna have a teaser of what dining at your restaurant will feel like."

"You certainly will," Timothée says proudly, trying his very best to forget the last five minutes. "I plan on making this chocolate pie one of the main desserts of the restaurant."

"I'm gonna go get it."

"I´ll help you out," he assures Lauren, pushing himself up and rushing over to the kitchen with her. As he finally finds himself secluded from everyone else, he lets out a loud sigh, leaning against the counter. "I know he's your friend and all, but why on earth does that guy hate me so much?"

"Armie?," Lauren scoffs, placing the pie down on the counter and reaching for clean plates at the cupboard. "I don't think he hates you at all, Timothée."

"Right, he just likes to annoy the hell out of me."

"Honestly?," she leans against the counter too, her eyes locked on Timothée, whose expression slowly changes to a confused one as she smiles. "I think he likes you way more than you realize."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ I think he likes you way more than you realize. _

Timothée stands under the shower, the cold water cascading down his naked body as he stares at the tiled walls of his bathroom. Lauren´s words resonate in his head over and over again, the little smirk on her face a hint that she was simply trying to tease him, maybe even try to make their relationship a little bit better, but as far as Timothée is concerned even when someone´s teasing you, there is a hint of true in their words. 

But if there was some sort of truth there, he simply couldn't see it. Armie did nothing but annoy him, he was constantly trying to get him to lose his temper and even put him in a spot at the lunch table when he bluntly said he didn't like him. There was absolutely no way he was at all attracted to him, Timothée simply couldn´t believe that to be true at all. Even if he was fully aware of the old -and rather insufferable- idea that men often annoy people they like to try and show their affection, but they were far from high school boys who didn't know better.

He sighs, runs his fingers through his damp hair and looks out the small little window to his right, noticing how the sky is quickly turning darker. He turns off of the shower, grabs a towel and wraps around his waist, walking back to his bedroom and opening the walk in closet, which he goes through for a couple of minutes, trying to find something to wear. He checks the time, groans as he realizes he's almost late and quickly picks a pair of pants and some nice shirt, which he puts it on before throwing a light jacket over it all. 

He checks himself in the mirror, fixes a few curls, puts on his shoes and grabs his wallet, rushing out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He checks the windows, making sure they are all closed and takes his phone from the coffee table, pocketing it as he walks past the front door. He hears a couple of voices and glances around, spotting Armie and Greg talking on the sidewalk, each one of them with a cigarette in their fingers. Armie´s gaze catches his and they stare at one another for a quick second, being interrupted only when a car parks outside Timothée´s house and honks. He frowns, trying to get a better look at who is inside and then smiles as the door opens and Jared steps out, waving him over.

As he walks towards the car, Timothée can feel someone's gaze on him and from the corner of his eye he can see Armie is watching his every move. He tells himself not to over think any of this, keep in mind that while Lauren might think there is something behind all the arguments, all he experienced so far was far from anything regarding sexual attraction or even romance. 

"Hey, my sister told me to pick you up first."

"Well, thank you for that," he says while opening the passenger's door and getting inside the car. "I´m so used to using the subway to do everything, I´m still trying to get used to the idea that I need a car to get around this city."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard doing things without a car around here."

"I think that's going to be one of the hardest things for me to get used to," he explains, putting on his seatbelt. "I can drive, but I´m not exactly a fan of it, you know?"

"Then I'm truly sorry for all the trouble you´re gonna go through."

Timothée smiles as he exchanges a quick look with Jared, but looks out of the window as he drives off, watching as Greg and Armie pass them by. He bites his lip, keeping his eyes on them through the rearview mirror until they disappear in the distance, although his mind remains exactly in the same place.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he assures him, nodding his head slowly. "Just have a lot in mind, that's all."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"So you just packed your bags and flew here?," Jared asks Timothée through the music, his elbows leaned against the table and his eyes only leaving him once his sister appears by his side, placing a few drinks down. "Thanks, sis."

"Thank you," Timothée smiles at Gen, takes one of the drinks and sips on it, licking his lips afterwards. "And no, there was a little more planning than that, although my parents might tell you otherwise."

"And why exactly did you decide to change New York to Los Angeles?"

"A lot happened in the past few months of my life and I felt like I needed a change, you know? It was time for me to do something that was mine and no one else's, and for some odd reason Los Angeles felt like the right place."

"Does it still feel like the right place?," Gen asks, leaning closer to him. "Or have you had second thoughts?"

"Oh, I definitely had second thoughts, but nothing too drastic or that lasted very long. I felt the changes, obviously, but I knew I had to face everything with open arms if I want to make this new chapter of my life work."

"And once you open your restaurant you´ll see it was all worth it."

"It already feels like it was worth it. Things might be moving slowly, but they are going exactly where I want them to go, so I'm already grateful for everything I've accomplished the last two weeks. I do miss my family and friends though, that has been the most difficult part of this whole thing."

"In the end, no matter how happy something makes you, leaving your friends and family behind will always be the hardest part," Jared adds, a small but comforting smile on his lips. "But it's nice to hear you're settling in well here, not to mention you seem like a very positive person, which in my opinion always helps."

"I can be quite positive, but I also have my moments of freaking out, so don't let me fool you."

"Okay, I´ll keep that in mind."

"Oh, I was meaning to ask you something," Gen starts, taking Timothée´s attention away from Jared. "You said you´re about to choose the constructor company, that you´ve already found a place where to buy the equipment, but what about the suppliers? Have you managed to narrow down your options?"

"Narrow down? I don't have enough options to narrow down, Gen," he chuckles, although a hint of despair suddenly fills his eyes. "I have been struggling to find people I connect with and whose work can benefit mine."

"You know who I think you should go for," she says as Jared frowns, glancing from Timothée to her. "The Hammer Farm, their products are amazing and everyone I know who's ever worked with them has nothing but great things to say."

"Yeah, everyone seems to recommend him."

"And it seems like you're not very keen on the idea," Jared complements, cocking an eyebrow. "You didn't like their products?"

"On the contraire, their product really is the best I´ve seen so far, my main problem is the guy running the business. He's best friends with my neighbor and we´ve run into each other a couple of times, but all we ever managed to do is argue."

"Oh, I see," Jared sighs, tapping his fingers on the table. "I think you gotta ask yourself what's more important to you; make sure your restaurant has the best products or keep yourself distant from the guy, but settle for something a little less than perfect."

"Yeah, I´ve been debating with that for a while now. I'm just worried that our not so good relationship might end up interfering in the business side of things, you know?"

"That can happen, but it's not like you have to see him all the time," Gen shrugs. "You could always solve things by the phone...or hire a secretary."

"One whose job is to solely deal with him?," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, I think I might take a little bit more time thinking about this, don´t want to make any decisions I might regret later on."

"Fair point," she smiles, gently squeezing his hand. "Now, how about we stop talking about work?"

"Fine by me."

"Great, because I have a few more questions about the New York life you left behind."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head. 

"Ask away, although I can´t promise you I will answer all of them."


	6. A Pleasant Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New and old friends

Timothée wakes up with a jolt, a groan escaping him as he looks around the still dark bedroom. He runs his fingers through his curls, notices his shirt and forehead are drenched in sweat and shakes his head, pushing himself up from the bed. He slowly makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway, yawing as he reaches the kitchen, his body heavy and tense, sleep still consuming him. 

He pours himself a glass of water, leans against the granite counter and takes a few sips, eyes glued to the window, through where he watches the quiet street. It's only four in the morning, everything looks peaceful and yet slightly eerie, but the sight from inside his kitchen looks incredibly beautiful.

He refills his glass with water, tames his curls and walks out to his small porch, leaning against the threshold to take in the cool breeze. He glances around the neighborhood, which seems completely different at this time of day, no kids running around, no cars or the already well known sound of his neighbors greeting each other whenever they pass by on the sidewalk. 

Timothée stands there for a few minutes, the breeze becoming less frequent, the first rays of sun already creeping from behind the clouds and suddenly a car comes to view at the end of the road. He frowns, his finger tracing the brink of the glass as he watches it stop by Greg and Lauren´s place; it takes a few seconds, but eventually Armie steps out of it and rushes to the trunk, which he opens and retrieves a few boxes out of it.

He watches the scene with curiosity, noticing as he stacks a couple of boxes on the sidewalk and then closes the trunk, flipping the keys on his fingers before he takes the boxes in his hand and walks to the front door. He sets them all down on the porch near the door, kneels down for something Timothée can´t quite see and then raises to his feet once again, glancing around until his eyes find Timothée. 

He swallows thickly at the realization he has just been caught staring, bites his lip and crosses his arms, averting his eyes and trying his very best to keep himself from blushing, even if he is aware he can´t see him that well from where he is standing. He actually expects Armie to walk over to him, put on that well known condescending smile of his and ask why he's been so intrigued by him, but much to his surprise, all he does is get in the car and drive away. 

Timothée exhales, turns on his heels and walks back inside, locking the door behind him. He leaves his glass in the kitchen sink, then walks to the bedroom, rushing to the shower so he can wash away the sweat that dried off in his body. Since he´s aware he won't be getting any sleep, he might as well start his day and get something productive done.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sets the mug down on the counter, reaches for the jar of chocolate chip cookies and grabs one, taking a bite off of it just as the doorbell goes off. He frowns, eyes wandering to the clock before he hops off of the stool and drags himself around the house, cookie and mug of hot steaming coffee in his hands. He sighs, struggles with the door handle, but eventually manages to get it open, his eyes going wide as he processes who is standing right in front of him.

"Pauline? Seth? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Man hasn't seen us in weeks," Seth says while shaking his head. "And yet, that's how he welcomes us."

Timothée rolls his eyes, sets his mug down on the sideboard by the door and stuffs the cookie inside his mouth before pulling them both into a tight hug. With how rushed things were done, Timothée never felt like he had the chance to say goodbye to everyone the way he wanted, so after two weeks it felt great to be embraced by Pauline and Seth.

"I can´t believe you two just sprung on me like this," he chuckles while pulling away. "I didn't expect to have anyone here for a few months."

"Seth said he was thinking of surprising you and I simply couldn't stay out of this, so I bought myself a ticket and packed my bags as fast as I could."

"You have no idea how happy I am to have you two here," he ushers them in, closes the door behind them and gestures for them to drop their bags by the couch. He then leads them to the kitchen, taking two mugs on the cupboard and sliding over to them. "There´s coffee, orange juice on the fridge and some cookies I baked yesterday. Feel free to get whatever you want."

Seth nods, pours himself a mug of coffee and reaches for a cookie, taking a few bites of it. "We actually had something on the airport, so we´re not really hungry."

"How long are you guys staying for?"

"We leave on Tuesday morning."

"What?Already?"

Pauline shrugs. "Seth couldn't stay away from work any longer than that and I have an audition on Wednesday, I need to be prepared and well rested."

"I see," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "How are mom and dad?"

"Missing you like crazy, but happy with every little detail you give us about the restaurant and how good things are going around here."

"I can´t wait to have them here," Timothée smiles. "See the house, the restaurant building, show them around the neighborhood and introduce them to my new friends."

"Do we get the same treatment?," Seth asks, cocking an eyebrow. "Because I'm quite interested in going around town and seeing what all the fuss is about."

"We´ll have to do the rushed version of things, obviously, but yeah," he replies, a smile on his face. "I was actually going to the farmers market, but I can leave for some other time, I know you..."

"Oh no, we´ll go to the farmers market with you," Seth quickly cuts him off, a little cheeky grin on his face.

"You will?"

"Of course."

Timothée frowns, his eyes moving from Seth to Pauline.

"What?"

"You guys spent years telling me how much you hated going to farmers markets with me, now you suddenly want to tag along? What´s going on?"

"C´mon, Timmy, you´re being ridiculous, there´s nothing going on."

"I can tell by the look in your face that there's something going on, Pauline, so why don't you just...," he stops himself mid sentence, cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head. "You guys want to go to the farmers market because you´re dying to know who Armie is. Right?"

"Maybe," Seth shrugs.

"Actually, that's exactly why," Pauline admits as Timothée laughs. "After you told us about him, how you guys kept arguing and all that, we were a bit curious to put a face on the name. So, if you don't mind taking us with you to the farmers market, we'd like to get a look at him."

"You do realize you make it sound like you´re going to the Zoo, right? He might be a jerk, but he's not an animal or an object, being displayed for your amusement."

"I promise you we'll behave."

"You and the word behave on the same phrase doesn't sound genuine, Seth."

"Cut the crap, are you taking us there with you or not?"

"I certainly won't leave you two alone in the house, so yeah, you´re coming with me."

"Awesome," Pauline says, rather excitedly. "Can´t wait to see farmer boy."

* * *

  
  
  


"Thank you," Timothée smiles, takes the bottle of coconut water in his hand and sips on it before turning to his sister and best friend, who are leaned against the stand, each one of them with their own bottle in hand. The Sun is shining bright, the heat almost unbearable and it's clear to anyone around them that neither Pauline nor Seth are quite used to the weather. "I´ve never seen you two sweat that much in my life."

"You know damn well I´m not exactly a summer type of girl, brother."

"Oh, I know," he smirks, takes a few sips of his coconut water and then glances around the market, waving at a girl that passes him by. "Are you guys ready to go? There´s a nice restaurant nearby, we could stop there for lunch and then head to the restaurant, so you can check on the building."

"We haven't seen Armie yet," Seth quickly replies, standing up straight. "You´re not gonna trick us, Timmy, so don't even try."

"I don't even need anything from his stand, Seth."

"You don't have to buy anything."

"Okay, then what exactly am I gonna do? Stand there and introduce you guys to the guy, even though he's not even a friend?"

"I don't see a problem with that," Seth shrugs as Timothée shoots him a look. "We don't have to stop, we can just casually walk past his stand. If you want, Pauline and I will stop and say we want some vegetables, you won't even need to say anything."

"This is ridiculous."

"Can we just get this over with?," Pauline whines, takes his hand and pulls him with her, leaning closer to him so she can whisper in his ear. "Where is his stand?"

"That one," he says gesturing towards the stand with his head. He bites his lip, watches as both his sister and best friend allow large smiles to spread across their lips and sighs. He follows them down the street, crosses his arms and feels his cheeks burning when they stop by the stand, trying to make it look like it was just a random thing. "You guys are the worst."

"Hey, can I help you with anything?," Armie says as soon as he spots them, a large smile on his face, although it quickly turns into a frown as he sees Timothée on the side. "Hey there, Mr. New York."

"Hey."

"You're with them?"

"Sadly yes," he answers, shrugging as Pauline and Seth both glance at him. "My sister and my best friend decided to come visit me."

"And you made sure to stop by my stand? Well, I didn't know I was such an important part of your life, Chalamet."

"You´re not even part of my life, let alone an important one."

"Now, that's the Chalamet I know, always ready to insult me."

"See? That's why I didn't want to stop here," he takes Pauline´s hand, pulls her closer and gestures towards the entrance. "Can we go now? I'm getting hungry."

"They might want to buy something, Chalamet."

"They don't even know how to cook."

"Well, you can always cook for them, right?," he smirks, before setting his eyes down on Pauline. "Sorry for not introducing myself, I´m Armie."

"Pauline," she says while shaking his hand. "And this is Seth."

"Nice to meet you guys."

"Nice to meet you."

"So, are you taking anything today? I'm sure Timothée won´t mind paying, he knows I got the best price in the whole area. Right?"

"You´ve suddenly made your life mission to annoy the hell out of me, haven't you?"

Armie smiles, leans against the stand so he can get closer to Timothée. "What can I do if you make it so much fun?," he winks, turns back to Seth and Pauline and smiles. "So, since you guys came all the way here from New York, I want to give you guys a little treat."

"What?," Timothée asks confused, watching as Armie reaches for two small boxes, both painted by hand with beautiful flowers and oranges.

"This is a little gift we made for our loyal customers, there´s three different types of seasoning and a sample of a tea we´re starting production on. I hope you´ll enjoy it."

"Thanks, man," Seth says excitedly, taking one of the boxes in his hand. "It smells great."

"Everyone who's had a taste has loved," Armie smiles. "Our number is on the bottom of the box, so you can let me know what you think of it."

"Thanks, this is lovely."

"You're welcome."

Timothée glances at Armie, a little smirk forming on his lips. He's absolutely doing this on purpose, being his best and most charming self in front of other people, just to rub it in that the "special" treatment is saved just for him. It's almost amusing, if it wasn't so damn annoying.

"Can we go now?"

"Yes, we can," Pauline rolls her eyes. "We better go before this one has a fit."

"Oh, I´ve seen that and it's not pretty," Armie teases. "He almost crippled me once, I don´t wanna know what he´s fully capable of."

"Next time I might try to chop your penis," Timothée shouts while taking a few steps away, a cheeky grin on his face as he sees Armie´s cheek turn a bright shade of red. He glances around, notices some people staring, but simply shrugs, turning on his heels as he heads towards the entrance, Pauline and Seth following. "Did you see how annoying he is?"

"All I´ve seen is that there´s some mad sexual tension going on between the two of you, but somehow it seems neither one of you has quite figured it out."

"What? Seth, you´re going crazy."

"I don't think so, brother. You might be arguing most of the time, but the way you look at one another, it definitely says something else."

"Crazy, you´re all going crazy."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The restaurant is packed, its vibrant colors and fun posters providing a fun and cool atmosphere. Sitting at a table near a large window are Pauline, Seth and Timothée, who chat while waiting for their order to arrive. After leaving the farmers market, they made a quick stop by an art gallery and then headed to the restaurant, Seth pleasantly surprised with everything they came across. To Timothée that was incredible, because while he knows his friends and family might never leave New York, the fact they liked Los Angeles meant they probably would visit more often. 

As their orders arrive, Timothée notices his phone buzzing on the table and reaches for it, scrolling through some of his notifications until he spots one from Jared. He bites his lip, but can´t really hide the small glow that seems to take over his eyes as he reads the message. He glances up at the waiter when he gently places his plate in front of him, thanks him and then turns his attention back to his phone, typing a quick reply.

"Who you're texting?"

"Huh?"

"Who you're texting that got you all smiley?," Seth inquires, cocking an eyebrow as he leans forward on the table. "I also happen to know that look in your eyes, I´ve seen it before, mostly when there´s some guy involved in the business."

"You guys just want me to fuck whoever crosses my way, huh?"

"We never said that," Pauline protests, a little smirk coming to her lips. "But there's nothing wrong with that either, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, that´s not what I want at the moment. And if you´re so curious, I´m texting Jared, he's my realtor´s brother and we hung out last night."

"Just the two of you?"

"No, Gen was there too, but we got the chance to talk for a while and it was really interesting. He's an intelligent man, knows how to carry a conversation and can be quite fun too."

"And judging by the fact he's texting you, I guess there was some flirting involved?"

"Maybe," Timothée says with a shrug, a smile creeping on the corner of his lips. "But that doesn't mean anything. I meant what I said the other day, I´m not looking for any type of relationship right now, it's too soon and I think I deserve some time on my own. Besides, the one thing I want to focus on right now is my restaurant, because I want it to be perfect and that requires a lot of work."

"Work you´re more than capable of doing," Seth assures him, clinking their glasses together before he takes a sip of his wine. "I´m also pretty excited to see what you come up with, so I guess it's good you won't be wasting your time with men."

Timothée chuckles, shakes his head and then reaches for his fork, moving it around the plate before he takes a bite of the fish. He chews slowly, taking his time to appreciate the different tastes that fill his mouth and figure out the spices. He smiles eventually, pleasantly surprised with the dish, which is always a good sign.

"So, I was planning on doing a little dinner tonight at the house. I´ve been meaning to invite my neighbors over and since you two are here, it could be a good time for you all to get to know each other."

"And for us to eat your food again," Pauline quickly adds with a smile.

"And that too," he winks. "So, you guys up for it? Because if you´re not, we could go out to some bar or see if there's anything cool going around downtown."

"Dinner with your neighbors seems just perfect, Tim, don´t worry about us."

"Great, then we´ll stop by the grocery store to buy a couple things I don´t have at home."

"You sure you don't want to go back to Armie´s stand and see if he has it?," Seth teases, twisting spaghetti around his fork. "He seems pretty damn keen on helping you out."

"When he's not trying to piss me off, you mean?"

"I think it's less pissing you off and more trying to get your attention, but alright," Pauline shrugs, smirking as Timothée shoots her a look. "Anyway, does that mean you´re not gonna invite him over for dinner?"

"Why on earth would I? We´re not friends, we´re merely acquaintances and all we do is piss each other off, so I don't see a reason to impose myself such a hard time."

Seth glances quickly at Pauline, a small but cheeky grin on the corner of his lip.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh please, quit trying to make a fool of me."

"It really is nothing," he shrugs. "I´m just amused by your relationship with the guy, that's all."

"Right."

"Anyway," Pauline´s voice echoes. "If you´re not inviting Armie, are you inviting the other guy?"

  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée leans his hip against the counter while he chops a couple of carrots, in front of him a bowl filled with chicken wings, which were carefully placed in his special seasoning and are now waiting to be used again. There´s music coming from the living room, a low and calming melody that seems to reverberate throughout the entire house. He glances up as he hears footsteps, a small smile as Seth walks over to him and hops up on one of the stools, his eyes immediately landing on the folders that are resting by the side of the counter.

He drops the carrots in a casserole with water, turns on his heels and places the pan on the stove, which he turns it on and adjusts the temperature. He adds a bit of salt, covers the casserole with its lid and then turns back around, noticing that Seth is focused on one of the folders he has. He takes a sip of his wine, grabs a glass and pours some on it, sliding it over to Seth, who thanks him.

"Do you want any help with that?"

"Your help? No, thanks."

"Hey, I´m not that much of a disaster."

"In the kitchen you are," he smirks as Seth rolls his eyes. 

"Where´s Pauline?"

"Went out to buy some drinks."

Seth nods, twisting his wine glass around before he takes a few long sips of it. His eyes move back to the file on the counter and he flips through a couple of the papers there, frowning at all the numbers and words.

"What the hell is all of this?"

"Paperwork," Timothée informs him and dips a little bit of the sauce he prepared in the back of his hand, licking it afterwards. "Basically these are all the budgets I have to go through before choosing who is doing the renovations at the restaurant, and to be quite honest, it feels like this is the only thing I've read the past couple of days."

"But have you made a decision?"

"I think so, yeah."

"You think so?"

Timothée shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "It's not as easy as it sounds, alright? There´s a lot to take in consideration and I need to make sure I make the right decision, because otherwise it could lead to so much trouble afterwards."

"Yeah, that's true."

"But the constructor is pretty much a done deal, I have to take a better look at the architect I´m gonna hire though, I´m not entirely certain any of them fully understand what I want to do."

"You and your fancy, gaudy ideas," he chuckles as Timothée glares at him.

"It's not gaudy, I just want the restaurant to look beautiful and modern, but also accessible, something that doesn't scare off the customers."

"With your skills as a chef, no matter what the place looks like, people will go. I mean, just think back about what Wes decided to do at his restaurant, that place looked like a freaking vampire dungeon and yet, it was always packed."

"It wasn't that bad, Seth."

"Yes it was," he confirms. "But that's what he gets for not listening to you."

"As if he ever did," he looks down, a loud sigh escaping him.

"I´m sorry, probably shouldn't have brought him up."

"No, it's alright. I don't mind talking about him, Seth, even if it might bring unpleasant memories at times. He was part of my life, being with him taught me a few things, mostly of what I don't want in a relationship, but he was there for a reason and I accept that."

"You´re too good for this world, Timmy."

"I like to think so."

Seth chuckles, finishes his wine and then slides the glass to the side, leaning his elbows on the granite counter.

"So, there's nothing you´d like me to do? Not even peel potatoes or something?"

"How about you go back to those files, check on the 3d images the architects prepared and tell me exactly what you like in each one of them."

"Seriously?"

"If you want, I could really use someone else's opinion."

"Okay then," he shrugs, flipping through the papers until he finds the images Timothée mentioned.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée rushes through the living room and opens the door, a large smile spreading across his lips as he sees Lauren and Greg standing there, a bottle of wine in his hand and a large lemon tart on hers. He ushers them in, closes the door behind him and exchanges a couple of words before leading them further into the house. 

"I´m so glad you guys could make it," he says while taking the bottle of wine from Greg. "I´ve been meaning to get you guys to come here for a while now, but I´ve had so much work I just now managed to do this."

"Don´t worry," Greg assures him. "We know you have a lot on your shoulders right now, trying to bring your restaurant to life, inviting us for dinner shouldn't be a priority to you at all."

"Still, after you guys invited me for your daughter´s birthday after being here for only two days, it feels like this was long overdue."

"Oh please, we´re already thrilled we get to enjoy your meal."

"Gonna enjoy it while it is free," Greg jokes, earning a stern look from Lauren and a laugh from Timothée. "I never said we won't be going to his restaurant, but it's also nice to have a little taste before everyone else."

"You might have noticed by now, but he often speaks a bit more than he should."

"It's all good," Timothée assures her and nudges Greg gently. "Can I get you guys anything? My sister prepared us a cocktail and is really amazing."

"Oh, I´ll have some."

"I´m gonna go get it, you two can sit down and I´ll be right back."

"Okay."

"I´ll help you," Lauren quickly says, following Timothée to the kitchen. She smiles as she spots Pauline standing by the counter, decorating a few glasses, while Seth sits on one of the stools, steering a pink drink on a jar.

"Guys, this is Lauren."

"Hey, I´m Seth, Timothée´s best friend."

"Sadly," Timothée adds, a little smirk on his face. "And this is Pauline, my sister."

"I see beauty runs in the family."

"And you´re my favorite person already," Pauline jokes, rushing over to give Lauren a hug. "Thank you for all you´ve done for my brother, for what he's been telling me, you and your husband have been very helpful and I appreciate it. It's hard being so many miles away from him, but it's nice knowing there are good people here taking care of him for us."

"I´m not a child that needs to be taken care of, but alright."

"It's not in that sense, Timmy, it's just nice knowing there's people here you can count on when we are so far away."

"Your brother is an extremely wonderful guy, he's been a delight to have around and even my daughter is enchanted by him, she calls him Prince Charming."

"Children can be so gullible," Seth mocks as Timothée shoots him a look. "You know I'm kidding, don´t give me that look."

"I´m sorry, Lauren, they are kind of idiots, but I happen to love them either way."

"They sound just great."

"So, you have a daughter?," Pauline asks as Lauren nods.

As they start talking, Timothée takes the tart with him to the fridge then fills up the glasses with the cocktail Pauline had prepared, the bright pink of it contrasting with the greenish decoration she did on the glasses. He slides one to Seth, takes one for himself and leaves two glasses on the counter for them before heading back to the living room, where Greg is looking through his bookshelf.

"Sorry it took so long," he apologizes, handing the glass to Greg, who gives him a comforting smile. 

"No worries, I was heavily focused on all these books you got here."

"Reading is my main hobby," he explains. "And I admit I have a bit of a problem when it comes to books, I buy them without even giving a second thought."

"I always liked reading, but was never the type to buy many books, I usually picked them up at the library. Armie on the other hand, always liked buying books, he would spend his allowance on it while we were growing up and then I would have to pay for the drinks whenever we sneaked out on our parents."

Timothée nods, for some reason slightly surprised to hear Armie is just as much of a book lover as he is. He is about to answer something back when the doorbell rings again; he excuses himself, turns on his heels and rushes to the door, opening it up to reveal Gen and Jared standing there.

"Hey, you guys made it."

"You really think I'd miss dinner at Los Angeles´s best chef?"

"I haven't even opened the restaurant yet, Gen."

"But it will be a success and you will become one of our greatest chefs, I can tell."

"My sister likes to think she has some sort of superpower," Jared mocks, nudging Gen gently.

"No, I have intuition, just that."

"Right, let's go with that."

Timothée chuckles, pushes the door wider and gestures for them to come in.

"I'm glad to have you guys here."

"Me too, I can´t wait to meet your friends and sister."

"Did someone mention me?," Pauline sings while exiting the kitchen, a glass in her hand and a smile on her lips.

"And that's my sister."


	7. Do You Wanna Go To The Seaside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibling love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I know the recent events have been a bit overwhelming, things are a bit complicated and we are all trying to understand how to navigate all of this. I know I have a lot in mind, my thoughts shifting constantly and emotions are all over the place, but I have decided that for now I will go on with the current fics I have and hope whoever still feels comfortable reading sticks around for the ride.  
> Stay well, take care of yourselves and remember you should always come first.  
> Much love, Raquel ❤❤

Outside the sky is starry, the moon shining bright as a few people walk down the street, either going out or coming back home. Inside the house, there´s chatting and laughter, the dining table filled with a vast option of dishes, which his guests fully appreciate. Timothée had always loved being a host, even when he was a kid and his friends would spend the afternoon at his parent's apartment; he would always ask his mom to cook something, prepare his favorite video games and movies and make sure whoever was there, whether super close or not, felt welcomed.

After he grew up things didn't change much, and while Wes wasn't particularly fond of having people over -something Timothée might understand better now that they are apart-, he still did his best to have his friends and colleagues over at least once a week. He would cook for them, rent movies at the small indie video store that was located in the corner of their apartment and spend long hours talking. He loved to be surrounded by people he loved and cared about, so it was good to have that sentiment again, to be able to do things on his own right and have whoever he wanted inside his house.

Jared and Gen for example, quickly got along with Greg and Lauren, talking about their lives in Los Angeles and sharing a few tips on places they enjoyed, but not many people seemed to know about, which was also great for Timothée, who is still trying to get his way around town. Seth and Pauline were on their best behavior, paying close attention to whatever the other guests said, providing stories about Timothée and thanking them for being there for him when they couldn´t. 

So as tired as he feels by the time they finish dinner, Timothée has a bright smile spread across his lips and the conviction that he is doing his best work entertaining his guests, which turned out to be people he was starting to deeply care about.

"I'll grab the dessert," he says while pushing himself up from the chair, collecting a couple of plates in his hand. 

"I'll help you."

"No, there's no need for that."

"I insist," Lauren assures, taking some of the plates in her hand. As Timothée nods, she follows him towards the kitchen, setting the dishes on the sink, while he leans against the counter, a loud sigh escaping him. "Tired?"

"I woke up at four in the morning after having a little nightmare, wandered around the house like a freaking ghost and then went outside to watch the sunrise. Then my sister and Seth showed up and I took them around town, planned this dinner and it seems like all the tiredness I have is finally weighing down on me, you know?"

"I know," she nods, leaning beside him. "On top of all of that, you have a whole restaurant to bring it to life, I'm sure that's taking a toll on you, right?"

"I´ve never had to read so many papers and check so many numbers," he chuckles. "It reminds me of school, actually."

Lauren giggles, shaking her head. "You mentioned you wanted to have something that was yours, something you built from scratch, but didn´t you ever think of having a partner? You know, someone who could work on the bureaucratic side of things."

"I thought of that right in the beginning, but I really wanted to make this on my own, you know? Have everything be my decision, because that way I only have myself to blame."

"You´re one hell of a guy, Timothée."

He shrugs, a little smirk creeping on the corner of his lip, "I try my best."

"I take it back, you might need to work on your modesty," she mocks as Timothée laughs, nodding his head. "Things are going forward though, right?"

"With the restaurant?," he asks as she nods. "Yes, they are. I have finally settled for the right constructor, or the one I think it's right. I have a meeting with an architect on Tuesday afternoon to discuss a couple of things and if everything goes right, by Friday I´ll get everything started."

"Well, hold on to that then. It might be tiring and you might feel exhausted most of the time, but at least is all coming together and when you least expect your restaurant will be up and running."

"I can´t wait for that day."

"I hope I'm invited to the inauguration party."

"You'll be one of the guests of honor."

"Oh, now I´m feeling important."

"And you are," he smiles at her, a hand resting on her shoulder. "You and Greg have been really helpful the past two weeks, I really appreciate all the support you guys give me and I want to say that you can count on me for whatever you might need. If you want to go on a date any night and need someone to take care of Ella, just give me a call."

"Thank you."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Home," she quickly replies as Timothée cocks an eyebrow. "Armie stopped by to take back his crate and offered to stay with her while we´re here."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Ella loves being with Armie, she makes him tell her stories, asks about his life at the farm and lately she's been trying to get him to take her there."

"He still lives at a farm?"

"No, his parents and younger brother do, but he moved here after college. He goes there at least once a week though, to check on them and see how things are going at the farm."

"But it´s the four of them taking care of everything?"

"Oh no, it's a whole family business. His parents, brother and one of his uncles work at the planting, one of his cousins takes care of the design of things, one is an attendant at the stand and Armie is supposed to run only the business side of things, like finding buyers, making partnerships with grocery stores and supermarkets, but he absolutely loves to work on that farmers market, which is why he goes there almost every single day."

"Wow, it's a bigger business than I expected, to be honest."

"It is quite big and they built quite a tradition in the city, everyone loves their products."

"Oh yeah, that's become quite clear to me since day one. Everyone seems to be absolutely in love with him too."

"Except you," she says with a smirk. "Judging by what I´ve heard, everytime you see each other, an argument ensues."

"Sorry, I know he's your friend, but he drives me crazy and I´m pretty damn sure I have the same effect on him."

"I´ve said it before and I´m saying it again, but I doubt he dislikes you as much as you think he does."

"Lauren, I..."

"I know, you don´t believe me and it's okay."

"I simply can´t see it."

"Well, there´s always the possibility of me being wrong. And if I am right, maybe you two just need a little bit more time to get to know one another and settle into a more friendly relationship."

"Maybe."

Lauren smiles, nudges him gently and then turns around, fishing for some of the plates that are on the counter.

"Now c´mon, we promised those people dessert and have been talking here for almost ten minutes."

"I´m surprised no one came after us, scared we might have finished the tart by ourselves."

"Give it a few more seconds and Greg might pop up," she warns him, reaching for a few forks as he takes the tart out of the fridge. "I hope you like it, it isn't a chef´s recipe of course, but I gave my best."

"I´ve been looking at it and it seems just wonderful."

"Oh, so you did take a good and professional look at it, huh?"

"Can´t really help myself," he shrugs. "Sorry."

"I forgive you, but only because you promised me that chocolate tart recipe and I don't want to blow my chances of getting it."

Timothée laughs, shaking his head.

"It´ll be in your hands by the time you go back home tonight."

"Thank you."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"It was nice meeting you," Greg smiles, shaking hands with Seth as he stands by the front door. "I hope to see you guys more often."

"Oh, for sure," he assures him. "We loved the city and we need to come back, make sure there's someone here to annoy the hell out of Timmy from time to time, you know?"

Lauren chuckles, nodding her head. "Like only a best friend can do."

"Exactly," he says proudly. "We´re staying here until Tuesday morning, so hopefully we´ll see each other again before we go back."

"Of course, maybe you guys can come for dinner at our place tomorrow."

"That sounds lovely."

"What sounds lovely?," Timothée asks while making his way from the kitchen, a small container in his hands. "Please, tell me you´re not inviting yourself for anything, Seth."

"I didn't say anything, alright? They were the ones who invited us for dinner tomorrow night, so chill out."

Timothée chuckles, handing the container to Lauren, who cocks an eyebrow. "I baked these chocolate chip cookies yesterday and I think Ella will like it."

"Oh, she loves chocolate chip cookies."

"Will love even more once she finds out you were the one who baked them."

Timothée shrugs. "Girl knows what's good."

"Apparently, she does," Greg chuckles, patting Timothée´s back. "We'll see you guys tomorrow night then?"

"I never miss a meal, Greg."

"My kind of person."

"Good night, Tim," Lauren smiles, gives him a quick hug and then follows Greg out of the house. "Say goodbye to Pauline for me."

"Will do it," he answers from the porch, catching a glimpse of Armie and Ella on the other side of the lawn, running up and down the steps to the porch. He smiles from the corner of his lips, waves at the little girl when she spots him and then turns on his heels, letting out a loud sigh as he walks back inside the house. "Where´s Gen and Jared?"

"Right here," Gen answers before Seth can say a word. "Your sister took us to the bathroom and then we took a quick look at the backyard. I was dying to see what you had done there, but the answer is nothing and I'm slightly disappointed."

"I might have been neglecting the house a little bit and focusing all of my attention on the restaurant."

"Figured that was the case."

"I want to buy more stuff though, some paintings, a nice plant that doesn't require much care," he explains as she giggles and he shrugs. "And I definitely want to take care of the backyard, add some chairs and maybe a large wooden table where we can sit down for a few drinks and a barbecue now and then."

"I like that idea very much."

"Hope I'm invited for the barbecue," Jared says, his eyes locked on Timothée and on his lips a small smile.

"Don´t worry, you´ll always be on my list."

"I like the sound of that."

"Anyway," Gen smirks, her eyes moving from her brother to Timothée. "We better get going now, I'm sure you guys are dying for some rest."

"I don´t know about these two, but I definitely am."

"It was great spending the night here with you, Tim," she pulls him closer, giving him a warm and tight hug. "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," he smiles. "And thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me," she glances back at her brother. "I'll wait for you in the car."

"I´ll be there in a minute," he practically whispers, watching as his sister walks out of the door before his eyes wander back to Timothée. "So, I...."

Timothée turns to look at Seth and Pauline, who are both standing just a feet away from them and shoots them a glare. It takes them a moment, but eventually they seem to get the message and turn on their heels, rushing over to the kitchen, their laughter echoing through the house.

"Sorry about them."

"Nah, don´t worry about it," he chuckles, taking a few steps closer to Timothée. "So, like I was saying, I really enjoyed the night and hope that maybe we could do it again...you know, just the two of us."

Timothée swallows thickly, unsure of what to say or do at the moment. While Jared seems like the nicest guy he has ever met, Timothée fears it might be too soon for him to dive back into any type of relationship; there are still many scars he needs to take care of before he can open himself up for anyone else.

"But if you think this is too soon and..."

"No no," he quickly replies, shaking his head. "I think it would be nice to go out with you someday."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah."

"Great, then we´ll plan something."

"Yeah, I´ll text you."

"That sounds good," he smiles, leans closer and plants a kiss on Timothée´s cheek. "Good night, Timothée."

"Good night," he smiles, holding onto the door until Jared is already inside the car. He bites his lip, closes the door and turns around, leaning his back against it as he sighs loudly. He glances up as he hears someone clearing their throat and cocks an eyebrow as Pauline and Seth stare back at him, both of them smirking like two teenage boys. "I don't wanna hear a peep from you two."

  
  


* * *

  
  


The curtains are wide open, allowing the moonlight in, while Timothée sits on his bed, back up against the headboard and a few papers tossed all around him. He reaches for the mug on the bedside table, takes a few sips of his tea and reaches for yet another one of the papers, frowning as he brings it closer to his face, paying close attention to all of the details in the image.

He sighs, leans his head back and tries his best to relax and clear his mind, but lately such a thing sounds almost impossible to accomplish. He hears a knock on the door and raises his gaze, watching as the door is pushed open and Pauline´s head pokes in, a lazy smile on her lips while her dark brown hair falls down her face.

"Can I come in?"

"Always," he gestures with his head for her to join him, sets the mug back on the bedside table and collects all the papers that are tossed on the bed, putting them all in a pile by his hip. "Can´t sleep?"

"Seth and I were watching a movie, then he went to bed and I stayed behind, going through my phone. Why are you awake?," she asks, climbing onto the bed and sitting next to him. "And most importantly, why are you working when it's nearly two in the morning?"

"I just can´t stop thinking about the restaurant and all the work there´s to do, you know?"

"And what are you going through right now?"

"The 3d images the architects sent me with their ideas for the restaurant."

Pauline nods, flipping through the images, all of them incredibly detailed. She notices in the bottom of each image they describe what type of materials would be used, the name of each color used and some references, all of which seems stunning to her.

"They all look amazing to me."

"And they are."

"But?"

"But I'm not sure any of them actually match what I envisioned for the restaurant."

"But you did explain to them what you wanted, right?"

"I did, but I might be so focused on the images I have in my head, that no matter what they show me, it won't live up to my expectations."

"Well, you´ve been dreaming of this restaurant ever since you were twelve, I doubt anyone will ever be able to do things exactly as you have imagined. Doesn't mean you can´t sit down with these architects and try to explain things once again, maybe use what they have given you as a base and explain the changes you want it done. I know it's a lot of work, that it can be frustrating at times, but I know in the end everything will be exactly as you want it to be."

Timothée smiles, leaning his head against Pauline´s shoulder. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me, little brother, I´m here for whatever you need, no matter what it is."

"I know and that's exactly why I wanted to thank you."

"I want to give you a little advice though," she chuckles as he glances at her with a frown. "I just want you to take some time to yourself, alright? You´ve been working a lot and I know you have a good reason to, but remember you´re just twenty four, you deserve to have some time for yourself, to explore the city you now call it home, meet new people and just let loose."

"Is this because of Jared?"

"No, this is because I know you´re working a lot and I just want to make sure you´re also having fun."

He nods, a small smile spreading across his lips before he leans his head back on her shoulder. "Don´t worry, I won´t stop having fun," he says in between a yawn.

"You should get some sleep."

"So should you."

"That's exactly what I'm gonna do," she kisses his forehead, pushes herself up from the bed and collects all the papers and images that were on the bed, placing them down on the bedside table. "Get some rest, you need it."

"Good night, sis."

"Good night, Tim."

Timothée sighs, slides further down on the bed and turns on his side, staring out of the window for a while before he closes his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée runs his fingers through his hair, the sun shining through the open curtains and hitting him straight in the face. He can hear voices outside, as well as around the house, which prompts him to sit up on the bed. He stares around his bedroom, the nearly nonexistent decor bugging him a little bit; while he was never the one to have a lot of stuff in the bedroom, the lack of pretty much anything gives a detached vibe to the house, which is not something he's truly going for.

He sighs, pushes himself up and yawns as he leaves the bedroom, dragging his still quite tired body across the hallway and over the kitchen, where Pauline and Seth are. He frowns, notices the food on the counter and grows slightly confused; if there is one thing Timothée knows for sure is that neither Seth nor Pauline were made for the kitchen, so the oddly varied breakfast table is a huge surprise.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Seth teases while pushing a mug in his direction.

"Morning," he gives them a half smile, hopping onto the stool and immediately filling up his mug. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten in the morning," Pauline smirks and Timothée feels his ees go wide.

"Damn, I guess I was a lot more tired than I realized." 

"That's what you get when you're working overtime every single day, brother. You really need to cool down if you don't want to have a fit before your restaurant is even open."

"Don´t you even dare make a joke like this," he shakes his head, sips on his coffee and sighs in contentment. "I need to be in my best shape to handle all the work that´s ahead of me."

"Which is why a few days off might do you good."

"Message received, Pauline, I´m gonna take some days off, you don't have to worry."

"So," Seth leans against the counter, mouth full of grilled cheese. "What are the plans for today?"

"I thought you guys would like to see the restaurant," he smiles. "Or the building that will eventually become the restaurant."

"Oh, I thought you´d leave us hanging."

"Yeah, like you wouldn't make sure I took you there even if you had to lose your flight."

"You know me so well, dude."

Timothée smirks, stretches out his arms and then reaches for a croissant. "Anyway, we can stop at the building so you guys can have a good look at it, then maybe we could go take a walk on the beach? God knows I could benefit from it."

"Sounds good to me."

"And I should probably prepare something to take to Lauren and Greg´s tonight," he bites his lip, a pensive look in his face. "I took the chocolate pie the last time, maybe tonight I could bake that walnut cake with coffee frosting. That sounds like a good idea, right?"

"You do know I'll eat anything you prepare, right?"

"I know."

"Good, in that case I say you definitely should bake that cake, because when you did last time at your parents wedding anniversary, I barely had the chance to eat any of it."

"What?," Pauline frowns, shaking her head. "There were literally six of us that night and if I remember correctly, you took a piece of the cake home."

"Still, it wasn´t enough."

Timothée laughs, shaking his head as Seth shrugs, a little cheeky grin spreading across his face.

* * *

  
  
  


"Timothée, this place is incredible."

Timothée smiles proudly as he stands in the middle of the room with Pauline and Seth, both of them looking around themselves in awe. There´s no more dirt spread around the building, the old furniture that was there has been thrown away, leaving the place completely empty and ready for the workers to start. 

"You really nailed with this place, dude, whatever you do is gonna look amazing."

"I hope so," he chuckles nervously. "I have so many ideas, if I can get even half of them done, I will be over the moon."

"You´re gonna get everything you want done, Tim," Pauline smiles at him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You´re gonna go to your meeting with the architect tomorrow, have a nice and long discussion with him about what you want and I am sure you´re gonna reach an understanding."

"She's right. Besides, this place doesn't really need much, let's be honest."

"That's true," he nods, taking a quick look around. "The moment I saw the photos Gen sent me, I knew this place was perfect for what I wanted. I was lucky enough it didn't take her long to get the deal, I was a bit scared there would be better offers and I'd end up losing the place."

"Mom and dad are gonna love this," Pauline says excitedly, taking her phone out of her pocket. "Let's take a few pictures to send it to them."

Timothée nods, rushes over to his sister's side and wraps an arm around her waist, while he rests his other one on Seth´s shoulder. They take a few more photos, trying their best to not only show their face, but also the building around them. 

"Let me see it," he hovers over Pauline´s shoulder, taking a quick look at the photos. "Mom is gonna spend hours staring at these photos, wondering what the fuck have I done with my life."

"She's already wondering about that," Pauline shrugs. "But at least she´ll see the place you got is beautiful and was money well spent?"

"When I get some money back, then we´ll see if it´s well spent or not," he jokes, bumping shoulders with her as she laughs. "C´mon, we should get going."

"Already?"

"Do you want to go to the beach or not? It's almost lunch time, if we stay here any longer we won't have much time," he explains as Seth sighs. "I still have a cake to bake."

"Oh, I almost forgot about the cake," he smiles widely, wrapping an arm around Timothée´s shoulder. "You´re right, we should go."

"Mention food and you´re instantly down for everything, huh?"

"Cooking moves you, eating moves me."

Timothée rolls his eyes, although he can´t help but chuckle. "That's one way to put it."

* * *

  
  
  


There´s a quietness that surrounds him, the gentle blow of the wind tousling his curls and the warmth of the Sun causing his cheek to flush, his freckles even more prominent right now. He inhales deeply, his toes curling up on the sand, droplets of water hitting him as the waves crash on the shore. He feels reinvigorated, at peace and with his mind clear, all the worries washed away with the waves. He smiles, eyes closed as he tries his very best to fully appreciate the moment he finds himself in.

It´s the first time Timothée has stepped into the beach ever since he moved to Los Angeles. With all the work he had to do, all the people he had to talk to, he neglected some aspects of the city, things most people would see as a priority. Then again, after twenty four years of his life living in New York, beaches weren't exactly something Timothée needed in his life to make him feel good, although he had to admit that being there was a lot better than he expected.

He feels a presence beside him and opens his eyes, glancing to his right side, where Pauline now stands. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes kind and her hair blowing all over the place. She looks beautiful as the Sun hits her from the side, creating almost a halo around her.

"Is beautiful, isn't it?"

"And peaceful."

"You´re lucky to have this, Timmy."

"Yet, this is the very first time I step here."

"The first of many, hopefully."

"Hopefully."

She sighs, takes a step closer and wraps an arm around her younger brother, kissing his head as he leans his forehead against her shoulder, the position way too awkward since he's taller, but he doesn't really seem to mind.

"I´m so proud of you, Tim. After everything that happened, I am so happy to see you take control of your life again, see you finally have your dreams come true."

"There´s still a lot of work to do."

"Maybe, but you´ve already taken a huge step into making sure those dreams do come true," she explains, gently stroking his arm. "You packed your bags and moved across the country on your own, you are ready to face the struggles life puts in your way, because you know your dreams are worth the risk and I love that about you. I love your strength, even if sometimes you might not believe you have it."

"The support I have helps," he admits, standing up straight. "None of this would be happening if it wasn't for you and Seth, or mom and dad. You all helped me get through a complicated moment in my life, you supported me and always had a word of comfort when I needed it. If I'm able to accomplish anything today is because I have all of you behind me, ready to catch me if I fall."

"But you won´t," she assures him, cradling his face. "You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you deserve all the good that's happening to you right now."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

"Thank you, Pauline."

"No need to thank me, little brother, I´ll always be here," she kisses his cheek, her arms then wrapping tightly around him. "I hate to end this beautiful moment, but we should probably go and check on Seth, I´m not entirely sure it's a good idea to leave him all alone at a candy store."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head and wraps an arm around her shoulder, leading her back to the sidewalk, the candy store Seth was left in the distance. He takes a quick look over his shoulder at the ocean, a smile spreading across his lips; as the days pass, it becomes clearer to Timothée that moving to California was probably the best idea he ever had in his life and while things were still falling into place, he knew he had a life of happiness ahead of him.

  
  
  
  


The moon starts to rise in the sky as Timothée crosses the front lawn of his house, a large walnut cake in his hand as he makes it to Lauren and Greg´s house. Pauline and Seth are following close by, Seth's voice echoing in the quiet street as he goes on and on about the wine he bought for the night, which was extremely expensive and promised a sweet and lingering taste.

As he takes up the steps to the house, Timothée can already hear Ella´s voice coming from the inside, her laughter loud and contagious. He smiles to himself, rings the doorbell and glances at his sister and friend over his shoulder, but turns back around when the door opens. Standing in front of him is Armie, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled, plaid shirt open revealing a black shirt underneath and Ella on his shoulders.

"Timmy!," the six year old girl nearly screams, throwing herself forward and forcing Armie to put all his reflexes to use, making sure she doesn´t fall head first to the ground. "I ate your cookies."

"Oh, did you?"

"Yes and they were awesome," she says excitedly, clapping her hands together. "I asked mom if you could send me more, but she said I should not be so greedy."

"I like this girl," Pauline chuckles.

"Tell you what," Timothée whispers, leaning closer to Ella, even if it means he nearly has to press himself against Armie´s body. "Next time I bake them, I´ll bring some here for you, alright?"

"Alright."

"Okay lady," Armie takes Ella by her waist, brings her down and gently sets her on the floor, fixing her hair afterwards. "You´re getting way too heavy, soon enough I won't be able to hold you any longer."

"It's because I´m no longer a child, Uncle Armie."

"Exactly, you´re a young lady now."

She nods effusively, a large smile across her lips as she looks from Armie to Timothée, taking his free hand in hers.

"Come in, Timmy, I want to show you my doll collection."

"Where's your mom? I need to make sure she gets this..."

"I´ll take it," Armie quickly says, taking the cake from his hand. He brings it close to his face, blue eyes inspecting every little bit of the cake, specially the beautiful coffee frosting. He smirks, looks at Timothée from under his lashes and cocks an eyebrow. "What? You're scared I'm gonna drop it?"

"I wouldn't push past you, to be honest."

"Ye of little faith."

"Don´t worry, I´ll oversee the transaction," Pauline nearly shouts as Timothée is dragged by Ella across the living room and down to the hallway. "Sorry about my brother."

"Oh, don't worry, I've grown used to it already. It's obvious you not only got all the beauty in the family, but also the manners," Timothée manages to hear, glancing over at Armie with a glare just as Ella pushes him inside the bedroom


	8. A Change It's On It's Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An apology of sorts

Timothée sits cross legged on the floor, a doll perfectly placed on his lap as he watches Ella, who stands just a few feet away from him, a doll in her hand as she explains exactly why she likes it so much. He chuckles, visibly bewitched by the little girl´s charisma and talent for speaking; although he didn't really have many kids around him, Timothée had always loved children and having Ella around was a really nice change.

A knock on the door distracts them and they both turn to the side, Ella sporting an even bigger smile when she notices Armie is the one standing there, a cloth in his hand and his hair now pushed back. Their eyes meet for a brief second, but Armie swiftly turns his attention back to Ella, who´s holding tight onto her doll.

"Your mom is asking for you, monkey."

"Okay," she bites her lip, walks towards Timothée and sets the doll on his lap along with the other one. "Take care of them for me, Timmy."

"I will, don´t worry," he winks, eyes following her until she is out of the bedroom, her voice echoing through the house. He sighs, pushes himself up and stretches out his arms and legs, a little moan escaping him as he does so. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you."

"Me?," Armie asks confused, tucking the cloth in the waistband of his pants. "What is it this time? There's nothing to run me over here, although I suppose those dolls could do a bit of damage."

"I'm not gonna throw anything at you."

"If you say so."

"I actually wanted to...," he trails off, sighs and scratches the back of his neck, unsure of how to do anything. "I wanted to ask if..."

"Wow, you´re having a lot of trouble with this, aren't you?"

"Well, you don't necessarily make it any easier for me."

"I have done absolutely nothing," he scoffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, blue eyes locked on Timothée. "You´re the one who´s stuttering around and can´t seem to get one phrase down. Do I make you this nervous?"

"More like annoyed and sometimes kind of sick," he teases, rolling his eyes as Armie smiles.

"Wow, it has been a while since I had this effect on anyone."

"I'm one of a kind."

"I bet you are."

Timothée bites his lip, the tone of Armie´s voice a lot more tender than he would have expected. He wasn't trying to mock him or piss him off at the moment, at least, it didn't sound like he was.

"Anyway, what I was trying to say was that I might have made a mistake disregarding your proposal so quickly and..."

"Wait wait wait," he holds up a finger and takes a few steps closer to Timothée, his small smile turning into a full on smirk. "Let me get this right, you realized that you fucked up by completely brushing off my proposal and now you´re trying to change things around? Is that it?"

"Maybe."

"Huh, I was right then, you really suck at apologies."

"You know what? Forget it," Timothée rolls his eyes, fixes his shirt and goes to walk out of the bedroom, stopping when Armie takes a hold of his arm and keeps him in place. He glances at his hand, which is firmly wrapped around his elbow, the size and skin tone contrast not going unnoticed by him, who sighs before looking him in the eye. "What?"

"Go on, what was it that you were going to say?"

"I thought that maybe we could try and get to an arrangement."

"I see, you didn't find anyone that fit your expectations, so now you´re settling for me, right?"

"You can just say no if you want to, Armie."

"No, I´m not gonna say no," he says, finally releasing his grip on Timothée, who almost forgot he was still holding onto him. "But that doesn't mean I'm saying yes either."

"What?"

"Send me a proposal, I´ll take a look at it and see if we can get to something that will benefit the both of us."

"Are you serious?"

"What? You expect me to just say yes and forget about the fact you dismissed my proposal before even hearing it?"

Timothée sighs, eyes down to his feet as he thinks things through. He's fully aware he acted on an impulse that day and dismissed Armie´s proposal without a second thought, mostly because he just loved the thought of seeing the look of astonishment in his face. But now that time has passed and he has taken time to look at the scenario more objectively, he knows he can´t simply expect Armie to accept his offer out of the blue.

"So, what's it gonna be? Because if you want I can say no and just walk away," he smirks. "I'd love to be on the other end of that scenario for once."

"No, you´re being quite reasonable actually."

"I really am, more than you deserve probably."

"Right," Timothée sighs. "I´ll work on a proposal and bring it to you at the farmers market, does that sound good?"

"This is a business transaction, Chalamet, not you buying vegetables for the week," he chuckles, fishes for something in his back pocket and hands it to Timothée. "This is my business card, you´ll find my office´s address at the bottom, you can stop by during the week, I´m there from eight to eleven."

"Is this why you´re rarely at the farmers market in the morning during the week?"

"Oh, so you´ve missed me."

"Of course not."

"Of course," he scoffs. "Anyway, you work on your proposal and then we´ll see how it goes."

"Fine by..."

"Guys," Lauren suddenly appears on the hallway, her eyes wandering from Armie to Timothée, her lips curved in a small but salacious smile. "What is going on here?"

"Nothing," Timothée quickly replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright," she says, not really buying it. "Anyway, Greg just opened the wine, why don't you come join us."

"Oh, I´m dying for a little booze," Armie smiles, quickly pats Timothée´s shoulder and then walks past him and Lauren, heading down the hallway.

"Soooo," she smirks, turning back to Timothée, who rolls his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The dining room has gone silent, the clinking of silverware the only sound that seems to echo.The table is full, colorful and mouth watering dishes spread all around, while two bottles of wine -now mostly finished- are set in the middle. Timothée is right across from Armie, taking small bites from his plate while he takes quick glances at him from time to time, their conversation in Ella's room still quite vivid in his brain.

He couldn't quite understand what it was, but there was something about the way he grabbed his arm, or how he agreed on him being one of a kind; up until that point, basically every single word they exchanged had sarcasm and irony rooted deep within it, but at that moment, even if for a split second, Armie seemed genuine. And that moment along made Timothée think that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance of them actually being friends.

"Lauren, this is probably the best chicken I´ve ever had in my life," Pauline says all of a sudden, breaking the silence that had been stored in the room, her eyes swiftly moving from Lauren to Timothée. "No offense, brother."

"Non taken," he chuckles. "This chicken is actually pretty amazing, I might even steal the recipe for my restaurant."

"Well, I'd love to take the credit for it, but this is not really my doing."

"What?," Timothée asks slightly confused. "Did you buy this?"

"Oh no, this is all Armie´s fault."

"Wait, what?," Timothée asks, his green eyes going wide as he turns to face Armie. "You cooked this?"

"You´re not the only one who knows how to cook, Chalamet."

"That's not what I meant, it's just...," he sighs, shaking his head in defeat. "It's great, actually."

"Wait," Armie frowns, holding up a finger as he takes a second to process what he just heard. "Did you just compliment me? Is this for real?"

"Keep talking and I´ll take it back faster than it would take you to speak my name correctly."

"One can never win with you, can they?," Armie smirks, shaking his head as he leans back on his seat, arms crossed as he lets the name roll out of his tongue perfectly. "Timothée."

Timothée rolls his eyes, but the rest of the table chuckles away and Seth, with a little smirk upon his face leans closer to Armie.

"Don´t worry, man, you´ll get used to his mood eventually. We all do."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well..."

"Can we go back to the chicken?," Pauline says, rather excitedly. "What do you do that makes it so juicy and full of flavor?"

"That´s a secret I cannot tell you, otherwise my mom would probably kill me."

"So it's your mom's recipe," Timothée smirks. "That makes sense now."

"You should know a good recipe means nothing if one can´t do it well, Chalamet."

"Nah, the truth is Armie´s been cooking ever since he was a kid. His mother took cooking very seriously, she always said everyone, men or women, should be able to know how to get around in the kitchen, so she taught basically everyone around the house how to cook. Even I would have to help around when I stopped by."

"Oh yeah," Seth leans against the table, finger moving from Armie to Greg. "You two grew up together, right?"

"Unfortunately," Armie sighs exasperated, before letting out a chuckle. 

"Funny," Greg rolls his eyes, tossing his napkin in Armie´s direction. "But yeah, my family´s farm was right next to his and our parents had been friends for years already, so we would spend most of our afternoons together."

"When neither one of us was sweating our asses working on the farm, of course."

"And what exactly did you do around the farm?," Pauline questions, cocking an eyebrow. "I mean, I´ve never been to a farm in my life, but I can tell it's a lot of hard work."

"We started off with very mild tasks," Greg explains. "It was more about making sure we understood the work they were doing and less about actually doing anything. Until I was about fifteen, I pretty much just ate whatever I could, while pretending to listen to all the stuff my father was telling me."

Armie chuckles. "Greg wasn't exactly the most keen worker, he always knew he wanted something else in his life."

"And you didn´t?," Timothée asks, biting his lip as Armie glances at him.

"I always loved the farm and all the work we did there, I knew from a very young age that whatever I was going to do in the future, it would be connected to the farm somehow."

"And when did your family´s products become the success they are now?," Seth asks, clearly curious about Armie´s story.

"I had just started college when my parents invested quite a lot of money into our products, they started partnering with grocery stores and small restaurants, providing all the vegetables and grains they needed. So after I got my administration degree, I went back to the farm and we started talking about expanding the work they had already started, we got my brother and some cousins involved and soon enough we were working with people from all across the state."

"That's incredible, man."

"I like to think so," Armie chuckles. "It´s a lot of work, though."

"I can imagine," Seth cringes.

"Don´t mind him," Pauline explains, rolling her eyes. "Seth is allergic to work."

"Oh, shut up."

"When do you guys go back to New York? Because if you want, I can take you to the farm," Armie says while glancing over at Pauline, who´s eyes seem to light up with the thought. "Now that I know you´ve never been to a farm, I feel inclined to change that around."

"You have no idea how happy you make me for offering that, Armie, but we go back home tomorrow morning."

"What? Already?"

She shrugs, letting out a sigh. "Seth here has work and I have an audition on Wednesday morning, otherwise I would definitely stay a little longer."

"Audition?," Armie asks, curiosity filling his eyes. "Are you an actress?"

"I am indeed."

"That's awesome. What films or shows have you been in? I wonder if I have seen any of it."

"It's all mostly indie films," Timothée chimes in, chuckling as Pauline shoots him a look. "What? I don´t mean that in a bad way, you know I love every single movie you´ve been in."

"No worries," Armie smiles, leaning closer to the table so he can look Pauline in the eye. "C´mon, tell me what you´ve been in."

"Well..."

* * *

  
  
  


"Do you really have to be that mean to the guy all the time?," Pauline asks while closing the door behind her, her eyes landing on Timothée, who looks at her over his shoulder. "Armie, I mean."

"What are you talking about? Tonight was one of the most pleasant encounters we ever had," he chuckles, throwing himself down on the couch, fluffing the cushions before setting his head down. "Considering I once ran a shopping cart over his feet, this was basically heaven."

"Wait, that actually happened? I thought he was joking," Seth chuckles, kicking Timothée´s feet away so he can sit down on the edge of the couch. "You can be cruel, Tim."

"I've apologized for it...kind of."

"Considering you're terrible at apologies, I wish I could´ve seen how that went out."

"It wasn´t that terrible, I can assure you that," he says, eyes closed as he crosses his arm above his chest. "Also, we had quite a nice conversation earlier tonight, we might even end up working together."

"Oh, so that's what you were doing?," she asks and the teasing tone in her voice isn't lost on Timothée, who glances back at her with a glare. "What?"

"Don´t even go there, alright?"

"I don´t know what you´re talking about, brother."

"Yes, you do, so please just stop making assumptions and creating impossible scenarios on your head."

"Yeah, we all know Timmy boy actually has his eyes on the firefighter, not the farmer boy."

Timothée groans, kicking Seth, who laughs. "You two really need to stop with this bullshit, okay? I'm not looking for anyone right now, no firefighters and definitely no farmers."

"Didn't you tell Jared you were looking forward to going out with him?"

"I meant as friends hanging out, not as a date date."

"Yeah, right," Pauline chuckles, setting her feet up on the coffee table. "I´m pretty damn sure he considers whatever you planned as a date."

"We haven't even planned anything," Timothée huffs, face turning red as he looks from Seth to Pauline. "And even if we did, this has absolutely nothing to do with you guys."

"Oooooh, did we hit a nerve?"

"Shouldn´t you guys be packing? Or making sure you go to bed early, so you won't lose your flight tomorrow morning?"

"Our flight is not that early," Pauline shrugs.

"I hate you guys," he mumbles, pushing himself up and storming down the hallway and over to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him, while in the living room he can hear Seth and Pauline laughing.

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée drags himself out of the bathroom, throws in an old t-shirt and takes a quick look at the clock on the bedside table before he exits the bedroom, frowning as he hears the television in the living room still on. He peeks in, a small smile spreading across his lips as he sees Seth and Pauline sitting on the couch, a thin blanket covering them as they watch some random movie. 

He makes his way to the kitchen, prepares himself some tea and then walks back to the living room, nestling himself in between his sister and his best friend. He focuses his eyes on the television, trying to make it out which movie they are watching, but even after minutes, all he can tell is that Sting is in it and wearing a very weird outfit.

"What the hell is this?"

"Dune," Seth quickly replies.

"I didn't know you guys were the sci-fi type."

"And we´re not," Pauline chuckles, taking Timothée´s mug in her hand and sipping on it. "But this was on and it seemed at least interesting, so we decided to give it a chance."

"And what's the verdict?"

"It's not terrible," she replies, shrugging her shoulders. "But it's definitely not something I'd be watching over and over again."

"Really? You don't want to star in a remake of it?"

"If they offer me enough money, I will."

"I can totally see you in a movie like this one," Seth adds, glancing at Pauline. "You two have this androgynous features that fits this kind of film quite well."

"Look at mister movie critic," Pauline mocks, reaching out to squeeze Seth´s shoulder.

Timothée chuckles, takes the mug back and sips on it a couple of times, the tea already growing colder.

"Shouldn´t you guys be sleeping? You do remember you still have a plane to catch tomorrow morning, right?"

"Again, our flight isn´t that early, so you don't have to worry about us."

"Yeah, we also packed everything already."

Timothée nods, biting his lip.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just...," he sighs, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm gonna miss having you guys around."

"I promise you to come back as soon as possible, brother."

"It's just... even with the friends I've already made, things can get quite lonely sometimes, you know? As much as I'm growing to love Los Angeles, I miss New York like crazy. That little bakery near mom and dad´s apartment has been haunting my dreams for days now, I wish I could at least smell their coffee."

"Forget the restaurant, open a franchise then."

Timothée chuckles, nudging Seth gently. "That could actually be a good idea, but I think I'll stick to the restaurant for now."

"Whatever you want man," he shrugs, wrapping an arm around Timothée´s shoulder. "But in all seriousness, you know we´ll come back whenever we can or whenever you need, right?"

"I know, Seth."

"Also, once things calm down a little bit, you´ll be able to fly to New York too, even if only for the weekend."

"I plan on doing that very soon."

"Mom and dad would love to have you surprise them."

"I would love to surprise them too," he smiles, although it's clear to anyone that his smile has a lot of melancholy behind it, the absence of his parents around him still the most agonizing part of this whole situation. "Anyway, we should be focusing on the movie....who's gonna tell me exactly what did I miss?"

"Jesus, where do we start...."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The airport is crowded as usual, people running back and forth, suitcases of all sizes being dragged around, while the shops are mostly packed and the smells of all restaurants and cafes blend in together. It´s a mess, a mix of voices and accents, laughter and cry; but at the end of the day, it's a beautiful and rather touching mess.

Standing by the departure gates, Timothée has his hands in his pockets, his green eyes wandering around as Seth and Pauline grab their tickets on their handbags. It's sad to say goodbye to them, watch them leave and realize that he is once again on his own. And yes, he isn't exactly alone, he has new friends he cares about quite a lot, but it's not the same as having his childhood friend and sister there with him.

Watching them leave will be the closest he will ever be to feeling what his parents felt when he walked past the gate back in New York, waved his last goodbye before embarking into a whole new life. Back then he saw his mother´s tears and cried with her, but he didn't fully understand what she was going through, because while he was leaving someone behind, he was so damn excited and fearful for what was about to come, he couldn't quite comprehend things. Now he knew.

"Hey, you´re alright?," Seth asks, breaking Timothée away from his thoughts.

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah," he nods slowly, a little smile spreading across his lips. "Yes, I´m fine. Just really sad to watch you guys leave, you know? It was only three days, but I truly appreciated every single second we spent together, it brought me back to us as teenagers, wandering New York city, thinking that we were way cooler than we actually were."

Pauline chuckles, nodding her head. "Good ol´ times."

"More like great," Timothée corrects her, an arm wrapping around her shoulder as he leans down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "I´m gonna miss you guys, but thank you for stopping by."

"You´re my little brother, I´ll always be here for you," Pauline smiles, kisses his cheek and then takes a step back to let him hug Seth. "Don´t forget to take some time for yourself, rest and enjoy life, alright? You´re living in a beautiful city, take full advantage of it."

"I promise you I will start enjoying the city more frequently."

"And keep us posted on the restaurant," Seth squeezes his shoulder. "I want to know how everything´s going."

"I´ll send photos once we start renovation for good," Timothée winks. "I´m actually heading there later today, gonna have a meeting with the architect and get some paperwork done."

"You're using the building as an office now?"

"It's quiet and I'm sure as long as I´m there not many people are gonna stop by to bother me," he shrugs. "So whenever I feel like home is too much, I might head over there."

"That´s until you have a bunch of sweaty, bulky men crowding the place, rushing from one side to the other, with all those heavy machinery."

"Is it me or the scenario he described sounds a lot like the start of a very bad porn?," Pauline asks, leaning closer to Timothée, who bursts out laughing.

"Not just you, trust me."

"That's not what I was going for," Seth frowns, earning a little chuckle from his friends. He glances around himself, notices the line they were supposed to be in has practically disappeared and sighs. "We should probably go."

"Yes, we should."

"I´m gonna miss you, man. New York just ain´t the same without you."

"Well, for what it's worth, Los Angeles is not that great without you two."

"See you soon, brother," Pauline hugs him one last time, plants a kiss on his cheek and fixes the strap of her bag, taking a quick look down at her ticket. "Love you."

"Love you two, too."

Timothée smiles, crossing his arms as he watches them walk to the woman in front of the gate, handing her their tickets, which she scans and then gives it back to them, a small smile on her lips as she gestures towards where they should go. He takes in a deep breath, bites his lip as he waves them goodbye one last time and once they disappear into the crowd, he sighs and turns on his heels, his green eyes wandering around the place. 

He spots an empty Starbucks and quickly makes his way over, ordering himself a large latte and taking a seat in one of the empty chairs once he gets his drink. He needs some time to recollect himself, forget the sadness that consumes him as he thinks about his friend and sister back in New York without him. As much as he knows he has done the right choice by leaving, days like this are a reminder of just how much New York means to him. But before he can think of going back, he needs to let go of all the scars Wes left in him.


	9. All Work And No Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go on with life

Time can go by with the blink of an eye, especially when the world around you seems to be working on a high speed and you find yourself with a thousand different things to do and twenty four hours just doesn't sound like long enough. This is exactly what Timothée is going through lately, diving himself in between house work, because if there is one thing no one tells you is that living on your own does require a lot of work; and the restaurant, which now has entered a brand new phase, one that requires a lot of his attention.

While he felt relieved that his conversation with the architect had gone well and they had settled for an environment that would benefit not only the restaurant but the building as whole, Timothée knew that was just the beginning. Now he had to overlook the whole thing, dodge all the constructor workers that took over the building, walking in and out with slats of wood, cement and sand. There are walls coming undone, columns being built, stairs being renovated and dust pretty much making itself the major character of the whole goddamn thing.

Still, there is nothing that makes Timothée happier -or more emotional- than walking into the building first thing in the morning and seeing it all come together, seeing his dreams slowly become true. Every wall he imagined is there, every window he planned is being shaped to match his imagination; the backyard has now a wooden deck, which he will be able to add tables, lightening and plants to it, create a more intimate space for the customers that might want more privacy or a romantic evening with their partners.

All in all, as much as the whole thing has taken a toll on Timothée, he can´t even put into words just how happy he truly is. Seeing the building take a different form, watching as his restaurant finally comes alive, he feels as if a part of himself, one that was pretty much destroyed after his messy breakup, is now finally being restored. 

"Mr. Chalamet?," a thundering voice echoes in the hallway, catching Timothée´s attention. He glances over his shoulder, holding the clipboard closer to his chest as he watches Dean, the head of construction walk towards him, his stature and muscular body quite intimidating. "The doors to the backyard are here, do you wanna take a look before we can start?"

"Oh, of course," he nods, following him down the hallway, his eyes wandering all around him. He stops just where the doors will be put, his eyes roaming to the patio, its beautiful wooden deck taking most of the space, while on the little patch that's left, grass will be put. "Where are they?"

"Right here," Dean says, bringing a large glass door, which is framed with black iron. "What you say?"

"Is perfect," he smiles, glancing down at his clipboard and crossing something on it. "It's gonna look great."

"It´s a really nice material too, you probably won't have any problems with these doors for many years."

"Good, I´m having way too much work already, I will be glad if whatever is done here lasts for over a decade."

"I wouldn't say a decade..."

"Humor me, Dean," he chuckles, nods quickly in his direction and then turns on his heels, heading back inside the building. He stops by what will soon be the entrance of his kitchen and leans against the wall, a large smile on his lips as he lets his imagination run free, almost being able to see exactly where each thing will go. He simply can´t wait until the day there will be a dozen other people there with him, rushing around the hot and steamy kitchen, creating the most beautiful and delicious plates the city has ever had the opportunity to taste.

He chuckles to himself, moves his eyes down to the clipboard once again and slides his finger through the list of things he needs to take care of for the day. Now that the backyard doors are already here, he needs to make sure the new floor and handrail are there before he goes back home. He hears voices in the front of the building and quickly follows it, a surprised expression taking over his face when he sees Lauren standing there.

"What are you doing here?"

"I know you´ve been working quite a lot and I have to admit is making me a bit worried about you, so I decided to stop by and see if you´ve taken a lunch break already."

"Lunch break?," he asks, a bit confused. "What time is it?"

"Almost one."

"Really?," he huffs, fingers running through his curls. "I completely lost track of time."

"Then it's a good thing I decided to show up," she smiles, linking arms with him. "Let's grab some lunch and then you can come back here and get lost in all your work."

"I don´t know, there are some things waiting to be delivered and..."

Lauren shoots him a look and Timothée sighs, nodding his head slowly. He had promised his family, specially his mother, that he would take care of himself, make sure he wouldn't miss any meals or lose too much sleep over stress. And if he wanted to actually bring his restaurant to life, he knew he had to follow through that promise.

"Okay, let's go.”

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sits across from Lauren, a small flower arrangement in between them as they wait for their food to arrive. It's the first time he sits down ever since he left his house, the tiredness of a whole morning of work already weighing down on him, who now realizes just how hungry he truly was. The smells that come from the kitchen, the sight of the other dishes being scattered around the place, it all nearly makes his stomach growl.

He sips on his wine, the sweet taste lingering on his tongue, exactly how he likes it. The restaurant itself is simple and quite small, but cozy and inviting, not to mention the menu is truly mouth watering. He smiles over at Lauren, who is looking down at her phone, a large smile spreading across her lips as she swipes to the right repeatedly. When she finally glances back up at him, she simply hands him the phone, gesturing for him to take a look.

What he sees is a picture of Ella mounted on a horse, Greg standing close behind as she smiles to the camera. Her hair is a complete mess and her clothes are slightly dirty, a clear indication of a child being allowed to run free around the house...or wherever it is that she is now.

"Greg took her to spend the day with Armie at the farm," Lauren explains when Timothée hands her the phone back. "He's been sending me photos ever since they left the house and I don´t think I remember ever seeing Ella this excited about something."

"Is her first time at the farm?"

"She was there once before, but she was not even two years old, so she didn't get to experience the way she is doing now."

"She does look really happy."

"She's been nagging Armie to take her there for months, but there was always something in the way, you know? I´m glad she finally managed to do it and do it with her father, who grew up in a farm quite similar to that one, I think it's going to be a great bonding experience for them both."

"Does his family still owe a farm?"

"No, not anymore. His father passed away a couple of years ago and after that his mother decided she didn't want to live in that place all alone, so she moved here and bought a little house next to Greg´s sister."

"I didn't even know he had a sister."

"An older one, she moved here around the time we got married and helped me a lot through my pregnancy. His mother actually comes by the house quite often, so I´ll make sure you introduce you guys sometime."

"But what happened to the farm?"

"Armie brought it."

"What?"

She nods. "They were starting to expand the farm, growing the business as they partnered with more people, so he decided to buy the farm so they could have more space for plantation."

"Quite the entrepreneur he is, huh?"

"When I met Armie he was already in college, but as far as I'm concerned, he has always had an inkling for business and really stepped forward to take charge of the farm and all the business regarding it once he went back home from university."

"I can relate to that," he admits. "I always knew cooking was something that spoke to me, a passion that grew without me even noticing, you know? I never had much trouble figuring out what to do with my life, because cooking was always there."

"Yeah, as far as Greg tells me, with Armie was the same thing. And not only he was good at the business side of things, he cares about the product he is selling, so he wants the farm to run at its best, so he can sell only the best."

"Judging by his fame around here, I can tell whatever he is doing, he is doing right."

Lauren chuckles, her finger tracing the brink of the wine glass as she looks at Timothée from under her lashes. She bites her lip, notices his stare and sighs, leaning closer to the table.

"He told me you reconsidered the idea of working on a partnership."

"I talked to him about it and he agreed to take a look at a proposal, see if a partnership between us is a good deal for him or not."

"Judging by what I´ve seen from you two so far, that's quite an achievement."

"I'm still a bit conflicted though."

"Why?"

"Because of what you just said," he quickly replies. "If all we´ve done so far is argue, how can we even sit down to have a proper discussion about work and what is best for either one of us?"

"Yes, you two look like two high schoolers who simply can´t do anything other than fucking argue, but I think both of you really do care about your jobs, which is why this partnership might work better than you expect."

"I am willing to do anything for the restaurant."

"And Armie is willing to do anything for that farm and all they have built so far," she smiles, reaching for Timothée´s hand. "Trust me on this one, Tim, you two will find a way to make it work. Don´t worry about it."

"I´ll take your word for it," he says with a smile, that grows even wider when the waiter stops by the side of their table and places their plates in front of them. Timothée glances down at it, his eyes nearly sparkling as he sees just how beautiful it was all set up. "Thank you for taking me out of that building, I really needed this break."

"Count on me to force you into a break whenever you need, my friend.”

* * *

  
  
  


"Dean, you´re doing such a phenomenal job here," Timothée says in awe, standing right beside Dean as they both stare into the kitchen, or what will eventually become the kitchen. Most of the construction is done by now and as of the next day, Dean´s team will start on the electrical side of things, which means in just a couple of days, he might be able to get in with his equipment. 

"You really think so?"

"I most certainly do," he smiles, glancing over at Dean quickly, before he takes a step in further into the room. "Look around this place, I can already see the kitchen working, staff running and me getting stressed over orders."

Dean chuckles, hands behind his back as he takes a few steps closer to Timothée. "We pretty much finished everything we had to do here, tomorrow we start the electric side of things and by Saturday we'll be painting everything. If everything goes according to plan, by Monday your kitchen will be complete and then we´ll focus on the main room."

"That's perfect," Timothée nods slowly. "And we're ahead of schedule."

"We are and hopefully we´ll stay this way until the end."

"Backyard is done, I just need to call in landscaping and add the lights; the kitchen is nearly done and as far as I can tell, the main room is where there will be least work for you guys to do. I have faith we´re gonna get this done ahead of time, but I don't want to pressure you or anything."

"Trust me, we also want things to go smoothly and hopefully finish it ahead of time."

"Then it's gonna work for the both of us. Anything else I might need to know?"

"The handrail has arrived, it's under the stairs if you might want to check it out. Also, if you have time, can we go upstairs and check on the office area?"

"Of course," he nods, taking a quick look at his clipboard. "Is there something wrong, though?"

"No, not really, just some things I want to confirm with you before we get started."

"Great, then we can...," Timothée trails off as he hears a voice coming from the front of the building. "Just give me a second."

"Take your time," Dean assures him with a nod.

"Thank you," he smiles, pats Dean's shoulder and slowly makes his way out of the kitchen and to the large open area of what will soon be the main room. He glances around the room slightly confused as he doesn't see anyone, but then a shadow appears behind the thick plastic that is used as a door and he walks to it, pushing the plastic to the side only to see Jared standing there, his eyes wandering through the front of the building. "Hey there, to what do I owe this visit?"

"Hey," he smiles, bringing Timothée in for a quick hug. "My sister said you´ve been working like crazy with the renovation, so I thought I could stop by and see how you´re doing."

"Thank you," Timothée gestures to the small wooden bench on the porch, puts his clipboard to the side and then sits down, a loud sigh escaping him. "Things have been a bit chaotic around here, I´m not gonna lie, but it's also nice to see everything coming together. A friend stopped by earlier to take me out for lunch, we had a nice talk and it really helped me unwind a little bit. But I'm glad you´re also here, it's nice to see again."

"After dinner at your house, I thought we would see each other sooner, but I guess work kind of got in the way."

"I´m so sorry, I know I said I´d text you and set something up, but I´m so overwhelmed right now, I barely have time for anything other than this building."

"No, it's okay, I understand."

"Your sister invited me for a couple of drinks tonight, maybe you can join us? I know I need some time off and we had such a great time the other night, I don't see why we can´t repeat the dose."

"That could be fun."

"Do you want to take a look at the work? There´s a lot of dust and things falling off almost every five seconds, but it's turning out quite beautiful."

Jared smiles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'd like to see how it's going."

"Then follow me," he grabs his clipboard, takes Jared´s hand in his and leads him inside the building, stopping right in the middle of the main room. "This will be the main area of the restaurant. Imagine tables spread all around it, a large counter over there where the bar will be, these walls will gain two large windows, one on each side of the front door and the bathrooms will be on that corner over there."

"Wow, I didn't expect things to move on this quick. It seems like it's just a matter of time until you need to start organizing the inaugural dinner."

"I have so many ideas for that, you can´t even imagine."

He chuckles, his eyes stuck on Timothée, who bites his lip, feeling his cheeks flush.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, c´mon, what is it?"

"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about this place and the ideas you have for it," he explains. "It's beautiful to see."

"This is what I´ve always dreamt of. And to be quite honest, a part of me is still in denial that this is actually happening, you know?"

"Life can be so stressful and complicated, that when something good happens, we tend to take a step back, fear that is all just a mirage."

"Yeah, I think you´re right."

"Timothée?"

Timothée turns around, eyebrows cocked as he spots Dean by the stairs.

"Yes?"

"Can you come up here a second?"

"Oh right," he holds up a finger, waits until Dean heads back up and turns to Jared. "I need to look something up there..."

"It's okay, I´ll wait here."

"No no, come with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, while we talk about boring stuff, you can take a look at how the office is turning out and tell me if I made the right decisions or not."

"Okay, then let's go."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sits quietly on the couch, his laptop resting on his lap as his eyes scan the screen, paying close attention to every single word he has written in there. Something feels odd though, but he can´t quite put his finger on it; maybe it´s the fact he knows after everything that was said and done, Armie will be meticulous about every little detail of this proposal. To be quite frank, Timothée´s still surprised that he even agreed to go through a proposal after everything.

He sighs, leans back on the couch and closes his eyes, rubbing his temples as he takes on a couple of deep breaths. He glances at the time on the bottom of the screen, bites his lip as he realizes it's almost time for him to go out and saves the file, closing the computer lid before pushing himself up.

He rushes to the bedroom, takes a quick shower and puts on some clean clothes, taking a brief look at himself in the mirror before he grabs his phone and wallet, heading back out. He checks every door and window, making sure it is all locked before making it through the front door, the warm night causing most of his neighbors to be out on the streets, either just talking at each other´s porches or taking a walk down the street.

He checks his phone to trace his Uber, but finds himself distracted as a car parks not that far away from his front door. He smiles as Ella jumps out of the truck, her voice loud and cheerful as she rushes over to her mother and gives her a tight hug, in her hand a paper bag that seems to be quite full. As Greg steps out of the car, he waves over at Timothée, who quickly reciprocates, his eyes landing on Armie seconds later.

He's in all black, his hair slightly messy and even from a distance he can tell his beard is a little bit longer, which normally would be something Timothée scrunches his nose at, but somehow he makes it work. And despite the turbulent relationship they might have, even Timothée has to admit that Armie is a gorgeous man.

"Timmy!," the scream catches him off guard and he just then notices he's still staring at Armie. He clears his throat, glances down and smiles as Ella runs over to him. "Timmy, I went to Uncle Armie´s farm today."

"Your mom told me," he says while kneeling down on the grass, his finger gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How was it? Did you enjoy it?"

"I loved it," she says excitedly. "There were cows and horses and chickens."

"Oh my God, that's awesome."

She nods. "I also helped Uncle Armie and dad pick up some tomatoes and peaches."

"Ella, that's so great."

"Then we went back to the house and I helped Uncle Armie bake an apple pie for mommy," she explains, taking a step back and fidgeting with the straps of the bag. "But I asked him if we could do anything for you too."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you."

"So he baked this," she says, nearly shoving the bag on Timothée´s chest, her cheeks a bright pink and her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I helped throughout the whole thing."

"Then I know it's gonna be incredible," he winks at her, sits down on the grass and gently reaches inside the bag, taking out a peach cobbler, the beauty of it surpassed only by its smell. "Oh my God, Ella."

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it, darling."

"Uncle Armie says the best way to eat it is with ice cream or whipped cream."

"Thank you for the tip," he smiles, plants a soft kiss on her cheek and then pushes himself up, noticing as a black car turns a corner and slowly drives in their direction. "I have to go meet some friends now, but I'll eat this first time in the morning and let you know what I think of it, okay?"

"Okay," she nods, looking up at him with a large and beautiful smile. "Good night, Timmy, have fun with your friends."

"Thanks, sweetie," he smiles, waves her goodbye and then rushes back inside the house, placing the cobbler inside the fridge. He stares at it for a moment, biting his lip as he starts to imagine Armie and Ella in the kitchen, preparing the cobbler while on the windows they can see the whole farm.

He sighs, shakes his head and closes the fridge, rushing out of the house and across the lawn, his eyes fixed on the car, which is already waiting for him. He opens the door, finds Armie standing by the porch of Lauren´s house and gives him a small smile, wishing that will be enough thank you for now. He will make sure to give him a proper one the next time they speak.

* * *

  
  
  


"Thank you," Timothée says to the waiter as he places the three drinks down on the table, a small smile on the corner of his lip as the man nods and turns around, heading back to the bar. He takes a quick sip, savoring the slightly salty taste of the drink and licks his lips, pleased with his choice. "I really should thank you guys for forcing me out of the house tonight, I was in serious need to get out and relax a little bit."

"You´ve been drowning in work, haven't you?"

"More than I would like," he admits, taking yet another sip of his drink. "But there's always something going on, things to check on or someone who has a question to make. Whenever I feel like I´m gonna catch a break, a new thing comes along and I have to focus all my attention back to work."

"But a part of you likes it, right?," Jared asks, leaning against the table, his finger tracing the brim of the glass. "I could tell you were quite at ease with everyone at the construction and seemed very pleased with everything you were seeing."

"Well, yeah, I guess that's true. The guys have been quite nice to me and are working really hard to get everything done even before the scheduled date. Not to mention, it's literally a dream come true to be standing there, watching as things come along and my restaurant slowly takes form."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You were so smiley throughout the whole time I was there, it was truly so beautiful to see."

"Wait, you went to the restaurant?," Gen asks slightly surprised as Jared nods. "And didn't care to tell me about it?"

"You don't need me dragging you around everywhere, do you, Gen? Besides, since you were the one who sold the building, I figured you'd have gone there already to see how things are coming along."

"I´ve been quite busy with work too, so while I did plan on stopping by, I couldn't find the right time."

"Don´t worry," Timothée assures her with a smile. "You´ll have plenty of time to see things, the work might be going ahead of schedule, but there's still quite a lot to do."

"I still have quite a few things to work on the next couple days, but I'll make sure to stop by next week."

"I´ll be there," he nods. "Every day, from seven to five."

"Working harder than Dolly, huh?"

"Gosh, that's terrible, sis," Jared rolls his eyes, a little chuckle escaping him as he turns from his sister to Timothée. "So, you got around the whole supplier problem? I reckon this was the last thing you needed to take care of."

"There will never be just one more thing to take care of," Timothée corrects him, a little cheeky grin on his face. "But I have talked to Armie and I'm working on a proposal, so if he accepts it, we will be partnering."

"The Hammer Farm has some great products and has partnered with a lot of establishments around the state, I'm sure you'll benefit from working with them."

"If Armie and I can stop arguing, I´d be a lot more at ease with this whole thing, to be honest."

"Why is it that you guys argue so much anyway?," Jared asks, clearly curious.

"I don´t know," Timothée shrugs, letting out a little chuckle. "Everyone says he´s really nice and all, but whenever we are together, he always finds a way to piss me off. And to be quite honest, I´m pretty damn sure I have the same effect on him."

Gen smirks and Timothée cocks an eyebrow, slightly confused by her expression. He gives her an inquisitive look, but all she does is shake her head, hiding her smile behind her glass as she takes a couple more sips of her drink.

"Maybe you guys just need to get to know each other a little bit better," Jared says after a moment, catching Timothée´s attention. "After all, I find it almost impossible for someone who has met you not to like you."

"Thank you," Timothée smiles, the look in Jared´s eyes sending a quite clear message. Maybe Pauline and Seth were right, he wanted more than just a friendly date; and maybe, just maybe, Timothée could actually see himself agreeing to it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The car stops right in front of his house and Timothée glances out of the window, taking in the quiet neighborhood and the moon that shines bright in the clear night sky. He smiles at the sight, slowly turns to face Jared, who´s eyes are on him, his fingers gently tapping on the steering wheel. He bites his lip, not entirely sure of how to deal with the situation he finds himself in at the moment; they had exchanged only a couple of words ever since they left the bar, but Jared´s intentions were pretty clear and Timothée was doing everything he could to prepare himself for the question that was bound to come.

And while he had wondered what it would be like to go on a date with him, Timothée also feared that he might have forgotten how this whole thing worked. Prior to Wes, Timothée only had brief relationships and all of them happened before he even turned twenty; add to that the chaos that his relationship with Wes turned out to be, Timothée was slightly scared he couldn't even go on with a date. There was a chance, and in his opinion a big one, that he could end up making a fool of himself.

"So, you´re still up for that dinner?," Jared finally asks, a small smile on his lips. "I know you said earlier today that you were quite busy, but I..."

"No, I´m still up for it."

"Really?"

Timothée nods slowly, a tender smile spreading across his lips.

"Great," the excitement in his voice is quite clear and Timothée can´t help but chuckle, finding it one of the cutest things in the world. "How about this Saturday?"

"This Saturday," he repeats the words, trying to get his brain to work properly. He bites his lip, eyes wandering all over Jared's face, who stares back at him with eager eyes. "Yeah, that sounds lovely."

"Great. I know this awesome restaurant, I´ll send you all the details later on."

"Okay."

"I'm really looking forward to it."

"Me too," Timothée smiles and finds himself slightly surprised when Jared leans closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I should go now, I have a lot to do tomorrow and need to rest a little bit."

"Of course. I hope you have a good night of sleep."

"Thanks," he nearly murmurs while opening the car door. As he steps out, Timothée takes a quick look around the place and then bends his knee, looking at Jared through the open window. "Thank you for the night."

"My pleasure."

"Good night," he waves and turns on his heels, heading straight back home, the door slamming shut behind him. He sighs, glances around the empty and dark house, then makes his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get himself a glass of water. He spots the peach cobbler, bites his lip and reaches for it, placing it on top of the counter as he grabs a fork by the sink drainer.

He takes off the plastic lid, inspects the whole thing and then takes a bite of it, his eyes going wide as he realizes just how incredible it tastes. He takes another bite, nearly moaning at how good it tastes on his mouth, the crust melting and the peach perfectly cooked. He takes the whole thing with him, walks back to the living room and throws himself down on the couch, turning on the television. Despite the fun he had at the bar with Gen and Jared and how much he enjoyed the drinks, Timothée was quite pleased to end the night at his living room couch, watching some random movie on Netflix and enjoying what was probably the best peach cobbler he ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my favorite chapters are about to come and I can't wait for you guys to read it 😊


	10. A Sort Of Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few problems, a few improvements and a lot of anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love how you're all so suspicious of Jared. Poor guy is being targeted for being too nice 😂😂

"...and I´ll be there in about an hour to check on everything, okay?," Timothée says into the phone as he stops in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes wandering through the properties around him, trying to find the right one. He suddenly spots the one he´s looking for, the voice on the other side of the line giving a brief answer, as he walks towards the small two-story building, which is squished in between an old movie theater and a clothing store. "Thank you, Dean. I´ll get everything sorted once I´m back there, thanks for calling. Goodbye."

He hangs up the phone just as he makes it through the threshold, his eyes immediately moving to a young woman, who sits behind a desk, apparently oblivious to what is going on around her. Looking around, Timothée spots a few pictures, some of a farm, others of animals, but most of them are from vegetables and fruits. He can´t help but chuckle, the frames reminding him of the ones he would see on Subway on the rare occasions he would go there to get himself a sandwich. 

He walks towards the desk, tapping his fingers on it to finally get the young woman's attention, a smile on his lips as she looks up slightly startled. She removes her headphones, clears her throat and gets up so fast she almost knocks the chair down and then it´s Timothée who stares at her startled and slightly confused. She's either new or just someone who came in to fill up for the person who actually did the job.

"Sorry," she nearly whispers, tucking a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Can I help you with anything, Sir?"

"Yes, I´m looking for..."

"If it isn't Mr. New York," the voice comes unexpectedly, but fills up the room just like it did every single time Timothée heard it before. He sighs, turns to the side and sees Armie standing there, arms crossed and his now very well known cheeky smile plastered on his face. "I have to admit, I didn't think you would actually stop by."

"And why is that?"

He shrugs, "I don´t know, I thought you could change your mind about this whole thing once more."

"I'm not that fickle."

"Aren't you?," he smirks, gestures for Timothée to follow him, but glances back at the young woman at the front desk. "If anyone else stops by, ask them to wait for me here, alright?"

"Okay."

Timothée looks from Armie to the young lady, smiles gently at her and then follows Armie down the hallway. He steps into the office, which is a lot more serious than he would expect, light grey walls, two bookcases that go all the way to the ceiling, a large wooden desk and on top of it, a laptop and a couple of files spread around.

"You can sit down if you want."

"I can´t stay long," he quickly replies, leaning his hip against a chair as he watches Armie sit down on the opposite side. "I just came here to drop the proposal."

"You sure? You don't want a cup of coffee or anything?"

"Why the pleasantries? That´s not usually how you treat me."

"Excuse me? I always treat my partners, or possible partners, with respect and kindness."

"Seriously, Armie?"

He shrugs, his smile never seeming to disappear, which just makes Timothée want to roll his eyes. He has never met someone quite like Armie, so condescending, someone who was willing to do anything to piss him off. Then again, if he got under his skin this easily, it was probably because he allowed him to do so somehow.

"Okay, where is the proposal?," Armie asks, bringing Timothée back to reality.

"Right," he mumbles, while fumbling with his folder, trying to find the proposal among all the other contracts and payment sheets he has there. He groans, takes a sit down on the chair and sighs as he finally finds the right paper and slides it all the way to Armie, who stares down at it with an eyebrow arched. "What?"

"I thought you didn't want to sit down."

"Are you fucking serious?"

Armie bursts out laughing, takes the paper in his hand and scans it quickly with his eyes, before setting it aside. "Tell me, is this how you act around all the people you make business with? You don´t seem very professional, Timmy."

"Don't call me Timmy."

"Why not? I think it suits you."

"It's not very professional," he smirks.

"Touché."

Timothée shrugs, crosses his arms and leans back against the chair, his eyes roaming around the office for a quick second before they land on Armie once again.

"So, how long until you give me an answer?"

"I have some other things to look into it, but I promise you it won´t take more than a week."

"A week?," he sighs, shaking his head. "Can´t it be a bit quicker?"

"Aren't you still renovating the building? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"You don´t understand, okay?"

"Then make me understand."

Timothée stares at him for a second, biting onto his lower lip as he fidgets with his finger. 

"This restaurant is the one thing I´ve always dreamt of, okay? I thought I had it for a moment, but it wasn't real and now that I finally can see it coming true, becoming something of my own, I need it to work perfectly."

"Okay," Armie nods slowly. "I can definitely understand that."

"Good."

"Look, I can´t make promises, but I will do my best to have an answer by Tuesday. Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes, it does, actually," he forces a small smile while pushing himself up from the chair, his folder tucked under his arm. "Thank you."

"Wow, I can´t believe it, you actually just thanked me."

"Professionalism, Mr. Hammer," Timothée jokes, turning on his heels and heading to the door. He goes for the handle, pulls the door open, but stops and glances at Armie over his shoulder. "Thanks for the peach cobbler, by the way, it was delicious."

"Well, that coming from you, it's quite the compliment."

"Enjoy it, I'm sure there won't be many coming your way."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée steps inside the building, coughing a little bit at the dust that seems to cover the entire place. He looks around the main room, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he notices workers have moved to working solely on the area of the bar, the spot for the lamps are done and even the structure where he plans on doing a vertical garden is set in place already. He couldn't really believe how fast things were moving, but ever since day one Dean´s team had been working hard to deliver him exactly what he wanted and he felt good knowing at least when it came to the construction team he had made the right choice.

"Dean?," he eventually shouts, glancing around the place in search for the chief of construction. As he gets nothing more than silence back, Timothée rushes up the stairs, his hand sliding across the wall, feeling the rough texture against his palm. He stops on the last step, frowns as he notices the office area is empty and all the work that had been done there has stopped every since he left earlier that morning. "Anyone here?"

Timothée sighs, scratches the back of his neck and rushes down the stairs, eyes moving around constantly, desperately searching for a familiar face. He nods at some of the workers, pokes his head inside the kitchen, but pouts when he notices it´s also completely empty. He then hears Dean´s thundering voice come from one of the bathrooms and turns on his heels, crossing the hallway and slowly walking in, being careful not to step in any of the lath that is on the floor.

"Timothée," Dean says when he spots him standing there, his smile slightly contained as he glances around the bathroom. "I know it doesn't look very good."

"It looks like I might have a problem ahead of me, actually."

"You do, but it's not as difficult to deal with as I first thought it would be."

"Is this the problem you mentioned on the phone, or do I have something else to worry about?"

"No, this is what I was talking about," he assures Timothée, who sighs in relief. "We were about to install the pipes when we noticed there was something wrong, we dug a little deeper, checked on the old tubulation of the house and were able to figure out what the real problem was."

"And how much money is this gonna cost me?"

"Around a thousand more."

"Yikes," Timothée scrunches his nose, rubs his forehead, but then nods. "Just do whatever you have to do, Dean."

"Okay, I'll send some of my men to go and grab the equipment we´re gonna need. I´ll have it fixed by the end of the day, you don't have to worry."

"Take the time you need, as long as it's working well, I don't care how long it takes to get done. Either way is a thousand dollars less in my bank account, right?," he scoffs as Dean smirks, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll be in the backyard if you need me."

"Oh, the landscape designer stopped by, she asked if she could look around the place and take some photos. She said she'll call you later to discuss everything."

"Thank you, Dean," he smiles, reaches for his phone in his back pocket and unlocks it, scrolling through a few of the messages he has there. He glances up as he reaches the backyard, which is only missing the landscaping work, the plants that will bring a much needed new life to the whole thing. He smiles, snaps a photo of it and sends it to his parents before he texts the landscape designer, letting her know she can contact him whenever she wants. 

Taking a seat in an old chair that was left there, Timothée sighs, reaches for his clipboard and goes through the papers there, checking out the list of things he has to do. Suddenly, he realizes just how much work there´s still ahead of him, all the things he needs to purchase, the fact he still has to find himself a designer to create the restaurant´s visual identity, work on the actual menu and so much more that he might be forgetting.

"I really need a break," he mumbles to himself, leaning back on the chair, the reminder of his date with Jared on the next day creeping in. He grabs his phone, quickly dials his sister´s number and presses the phone against his ear, waiting for the call to connect. 

"Hello there, little brother."

"Hey, am I interrupting something?"

"You never interrupt, Timmy, what is going on?"

"So, I might have agreed to go on a date with Jared and..."

"Oh, that's exciting."

"Is it? Because right now I´m not even sure I can go through such a thing."

"And why is that?"

"I haven't had a date in about a hundred years, Paulie."

"You can be such a drama queen when you want to," Pauline chuckles. "Jared seems like a nice guy and he clearly is interested in you, I say you just be yourself and see how it goes."

"Just be myself," he mumbles, but frowns as he hears something crashing in the distance. "Crap."

"What was that noise?"

"Something crashed," he explains, already up and rushing inside. "I´ll call you later, alright? I need to see what happened."

"Yeah, don´t worry. Love you, brother."

"Love you, too," he says before hanging up, his eyes widening as he stops in front of the bathroom. "What now?"

  
  


* * *

  
  


Making it home after a tiring day of work is always a relief, even when Timothée knows there´s still about a dozen different things he needs to work on, like cooking something for him to eat, washing dishes and going through the latest on his list of things to do. Still, the simple fact he was home, surrounded by his things and without dust in every single corner already made things a lot easier.

After throwing his things on the couch and kicking his shoes off, Timothée rushes to the bathroom, turning on the shower and throwing his clothes off on the floor while the water heats up. He steps inside, a large smile spreading across his lips, the water hitting his body with the perfect intensity and helping undone all the knots in his muscles.

If he could, he would stay there for hours, soaking up the warmth and allowing himself to clear his mind almost completely. For a few minutes, all he thought about was the moment he found himself in; no restaurant, no date or anything else that could possibly stress him out. He steps out of the shower feeling like a brand new man, wraps a towel around his body and grabs another one for his hair, drying it off slowly. He grabs something clean on the closet, puts it on quickly and then heads out.

He's halfway through the kitchen when the doorbell rings and Timothée frowns, contemplating the idea of not answering. As it rings once more, he sighs, walks over to the door and opens it, smiling wide as he sees Greg and Ella standing there.

"Good night, Timmy."

"Good night, Ella."

"Mom and dad want you to come have dinner with us," she says and Timothée cocks an eyebrow, glancing over at Greg, who chuckles. "Actually, it was my idea, but they said it is okay."

"Lauren said you´ve been working quite a lot, so when we saw you coming in, we thought it would be nice to see if you wanted to join us for the night. It's nothing fancy, to be honest, but at least you won't have to cook."

"Not having to cook after the day I had sounds pretty awesome, actually."

"So you're coming?"

"Yeah, let me just grab my phone," he holds up his finger as Greg nods, looks around the place for his phone and lets out a little chuckle as he finally finds it. "Okay, I´m ready to go."

He locks the door behind him, smiling as Ella reaches out to take his hand and follows her across the lawn and over to her house, where there's music playing low and an incredible smell coming from the kitchen.

"Lauren did her famous bolognese pasta tonight," Greg explains, turning down the volume of the music. "I'm sure you're gonna love it."

"I haven't eaten anything here that I haven't liked it," he admits, following Greg to the kitchen and watching as he immediately goes over to the cabinet, taking an extra plate and wine glass from it. "Do you want any help, Lauren?"

"It's already done, honey," she assures him, taking a refractory from the counter and dumping the pasta on it. She then sets it on top of the counter, a wide smile on her face as she sprinkles a little bit of parmesan cheese on top of it. "I don´t know, but I think having a chef around the neighborhood has helped me try and make my dishes look better."

Timothée chuckles, helps Ella into one of the stools and then sits down himself right next to her. "I´ll gladly take credit for this."

"How are things going at the construction?," she asks while reaching for Ella´s plate, which she fills up with pasta.

"Things are moving along, although we had some unexpected problems at the bathrooms today."

"Tubing system?," Greg asks and Timothée nods. "Yeah, those can be a bitch."

"Thankfully they said the problem won't be as hard to deal with as they initially thought. One of the walls that separated the bathrooms did fall down later on though, so we might be facing a little bit more work."

"Oh my God, was everyone okay?"

"Yeah, no one got hurt and the bit of the wall that fell was already something we would remove, but we hoped to do it in a more pleasant way, you know?," he chuckles, twisting his fork around the plate and then taking a bite of the pasta. "I'm glad we´re still ahead of schedule."

"What about the money?"

"Nothing to worry about for now, but I hope there won't be many more problems on our way, otherwise things might get complicated."

"Hey, if you need help with anything, just let us know."

"Keep feeding me and it will be alright," he jokes, winking at Lauren as she laughs. "This is amazing, by the way, you´re a great cook, Lauren."

"Well, thank you."

  
  


* * *

  
  


It's nearly midnight when Timothée comes back home, leaning against the front door as he closes it, his eyes wandering around the dark and quiet house. He sighs loudly, bites his lip and drags himself to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, which he drinks in two long gulps. He leans against the counter, eyes distant and his mind even more. He enjoyed the night with Lauren, Greg and Ella, was able to forget about the problems at the restaurant and even the anxiety that was building up inside of him because of his date with Jared.

A part of him still feared that he wouldn't know how to deal with the situation, that he would find at least one way to embarrass himself in front of him and ruin everything. Which was something he didn't want to do, because Jared actually seemed like a nice guy, someone who could be there for him when he needed and God knows he needs someone he can call a partner.

He sighs, closes his eyes for a second and then places the glass on the sink, turning on his heels and heading straight to the bedroom. He takes off his clothes, throws them onto the armchair and jumps in bed only in his boxers, pulling the covers all the way to his chest. He reaches for his phone, scrolls through a couple of news, smiles as he sees some dog photos around his Instagram and then notices a text from Pauline.

**_< paulie>_ ** _ wanna talk about that date? _

_ im here if u need _

Timothée bites his lip, dials Pauline´s number and presses the phone against his ear, his eyes focused on the painting of New York´ skyline that's on the wall across his bed. He smiles, a little pain shooting through his heart as he thinks back about his life in New York, how good it felt to have his family and friends around him, the long walks he would take in Central Park while drinking coffee from his favorite coffee shop. 

He misses New York, more than he would like to admit, but he also is aware that what he is building in Los Angeles is something precious and extremely important. He's got a life of his own now, he gets to make all the decisions himself -and deal with all the consequences of those, of course-, and he's got new friends who he actually couldn't picture himself without anymore. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, were you sleeping?"

"Nah, I was watching a movie and didn't notice the phone," she explains. "Are you still troubled about the whole date thing or whatever happened at the restaurant helped you ease your anxiety?"

"No, both of those things can coexist pretty damn well inside of me."

"Okay, then I'm all ears, what is troubling you exactly?"

"I´m gonna mess this up, Paulie. Last time I went on a date was almost five years ago, when I first met Wes. How on earth am I supposed to do this now?"

"The same way you did back then? Tim, dating hasn't changed in all these years, alright? People want to find someone they connect with, someone they can talk to for hours, laugh and tell the most ridiculous stories without being ashamed. And as far as I can tell, brother, you´re one of the most interesting people I've ever met, so whoever gets to go on a date with you, it's one lucky bastard."

Timothée chuckles. "Thank you for that."

"I´m serious, just calm down and be yourself. He already asked you out, which means he's interested in you, so you´re halfway there already. Just get a few drinks in, put on your best clothes and charm that man the way I know you can."

"Well, I am pretty damn awesome, so I think anyone would be charmed by me."

"That's what I like to hear," she chuckles. "And if you feel like things are going down, just take him home and cook him something."

"That's not where I thought you were going," he admits, laughing.

"Well, you can do that too, I was just trying to be polite here."

"Yeah, you´re known for keeping things to yourself," he fires back, a little smirk on his face. "But you´re not wrong, cooking something for him might be a good idea. Although, I might leave that for a possible second date."

"One minute ago you were scared shitless, now you´re thinking of a second date already? Dude, you´re so fickle."

"No, I´m not. I´m just trying to build confidence, okay?"

"Okay," she chuckles. "Then tell me, when is the date?"

"Tomorrow night. He actually texted me not long ago talking about a restaurant he loves and that I might like it too."

"And what are you wearing?"

"I haven't had time to think about that yet, you know, since until a few minutes ago I was freaking out with the idea of the date itself," he explains, earning a little laugh from his sister.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée wakes up early, opening the windows and allowing not only the sunlight, but also the nice and cool breeze to come inside the house. He cooks himself breakfast, something quick and simple and then takes some time for himself, lying on the couch with a book. It's Saturday and there's no work at the restaurant, which means he actually has some time for himself, to work around the house and relax before his date with Jared later.

Aware his pantry is nearly empty, he leaves the house at about ten in the morning, slowly walking towards the farmers market, where he finds a couple of his neighbors. Being in town for over a month now, and visiting the market at least twice a week, Timothée has gotten quite friendly with some of the farmers, spending long minutes talking to them and earning himself a few little gifts, which always makes him happy.

"...thank you, Genny," he smiles, taking the bottle of freshly made watermelon juice. He takes a few sips of it, giving the young woman a thumbs up before he walks to yet another stand, grabbing a couple of apples and pears with him. He glances around the area, biting his lip once he spots Armie´s stand, the young blonde woman who is usually there helping him talking with a customer, while Armie is carefully filling up the baskets.

He sighs, notices from afar just how beautiful the peaches and strawberries are and groans, making his way over. He stops a couple of steps away from Armie, eyes wandering through every single item of the stand, the dark green of the kale really catching his eye and paired it with the purple-ish color of the plum, it creates a beautiful scenario, bound to leave anyone enamored.

"Well, well, well, look who it is."

Timothée glances up, forces a smile and moves to the side, taking one of the plums in his hand and squeezing it softly. He then moves to the peaches, which he inspects with care, noticing the smell is quite intense.

"The peaches are perfect," Armie says, leaning against the stand, his arms crossed and on his lips a little cheeky smile. "The cobbler I made you came from this batch."

"Huh, maybe that's why it tasted good."

"Oh, I see, you´re revoking the compliment."

"I mean, with the right ingredients, it's nearly impossible to get a recipe wrong."

"You can´t possibly believe that."

"Okay, I don´t," Timothée admits, letting out a chuckle. "Even with the right ingredients, some people still manage to screw up."

"Just like life," Armie mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, what can I get you today?"

"You´re being extremely nice," Timothée muses, frowning. "Should I be scared?"

"Can you just tell me what you´re gonna get today?," Armie rolls his eyes.

"Now, that's more like it," he scoffs, pushing a couple of peaches, plums and some kale in his direction. "I'll take those and one of your seasoning packages."

"The ones I'm asking too much money for?"

"Will you ever let that go?"

"I'm still not sure," he shrugs, a smile on the corner of his lips as he reaches for a paper bag, where he carefully places Timothée´s purchases. He waves over at the young woman at the stand, gestures towards the box with all the seasoning and fishes for two little packages when she hands the box to him. He stuffs them inside the bag along with the rest of Timothée´s shopping, reaches for the calculator and adds up, showing the total to Timothée. "Just to make sure you don´t think I´m overcharging you...also, that second package of seasoning is on me."

"You're weird."

"Oh Jesus, if you want I can charge you for it, dude."

"No no, I´ll take it."

"Then shut up."

Timothée rolls his eyes, hands him the money and grabs the bag, about to leave when he stops, leans back against the stand and tries his best to put on a smile. 

"What about my proposal?"

"I haven't even read it yet."

"What? Why not?"

"This might shock you, Chalamet, but you´re not exactly my priority. I´ll take a look at it and try to give you an answer by Tuesday, just like I promised you."

"Fine," he groans, holding tighter onto the bag as he stomps away, shaking his head. He glances over his shoulder only a few seconds later though, noticing that Armie is already distracted by a customer, who he talks to while keeping a large and charming smile.


	11. Call Me Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant and unexpected date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the one chapter you´ve all been waiting for ;)

Timothée stops in front of a store, admiring the showcase, where models in various positions are spread, some in skinny jeans and flowery shirts, others in ripped jeans with tie-dye shirts and even linen jumpsuits. He bites his lip, debating within himself whether or not to walk in and take a look, find something new and different, something that might leave him a little less conscious about his date later that day. 

He decides to keep on going, but stops at the next store, the clothes at the showcase slightly more traditional, but still quite beautiful and in some ways edgy. He leans closer to check on the pricetag, frowns as he realizes how expensive a simple shirt is and shakes his head, taking a few steps back when he hears his name echo around the mall. He glances over his shoulder, a smile spreading across his lips when he sees Ella running over to him, her hair in two ponytails, which swing from one side to the other.

He kneels down, embracing her as she loops her arms around his neck, her lips pressing a quick kiss on his cheek. He returns the kiss, laughing as he hears her soft giggles and then leans back on his heels, his eyes scanning the place around them in search for Lauren, who runs in their direction, slightly flushed.

"Ella, I told you not to run away," she says in a stern voice as she finally reaches them, standing her hand out for Ella to take. "You´re a little rebel, aren't you?"

"What are you guys doing here?," Timothée asks while standing up straight, his eyes still on Ella, who looks at him adoringly.

"Mom and I are having a girl´s day out."

"Oh, that sounds fun."

"We bought clothes and had a milkshake and..."

"And now we´re gonna take a break and have lunch, right?," Lauren cocks an eyebrow and Ella bites her lip, nodding her head slowly. "What about you, decided to take a day off from all the dust from the renovation?"

"They don't work on weekends, which is great for me, because I actually get some time off to myself."

"And you're in desperate need of those."

"I really am," he admits, crossing his arms as he takes a quick look around. "So, I was just about to make a pit-stop too, you guys want to join me?"

"You sure? If you want to keep looking it's okay."

"No, I don´t think I´m gonna find anything anyway."

"Is there something in particular you're looking for?"

Timothée sighs, takes Ella´s hand in his and walks with them down the hallway. 

"I have a date tonight, so I was trying to see if I could find anything I liked. It´s been a while since I´ve been in one of those, so I guess I just want to make sure at least my clothes make a good impression."

"Judging by what I´ve seen, you´re pretty damn great at the clothing department, Tim."

"Thanks."

"Who you´re going on a date with, by the way? Do I know them?"

"He's name is Jared, you met him at that dinner at my place when my sister was here."

"Oh, the firefighter, right?," Timothée nods, biting his lip. "He's quite good looking and seems like a really nice guy, too."

"He is and he has been quite supportive of me ever since we met. I wasn´t really thinking of getting back into dating anytime soon, to be honest, but I also think it would be nice to find someone who I can rely on."

"Good partners are not always easy to find, but once you do, you realize the wait was worth it."

"I hope you're right."

"Trust me, I am."

"Timmy, did you visit Uncle Armie?," Ella suddenly asks, pulling on his hand and gesturing for the paper bag in his hand. 

"I did, actually."

"Another argument?"

"Surprisingly enough, he was quite nice with me today," Timothée chuckles. "He either took pity on me, or he was scared someone around us would hear it."

"One day you two will realize you have more in common than you think and you might even become good friends."

"I´ll be happy if we can maintain a healthy work relationship, Lauren, I won't be asking for much."

"You don't believe me?," she questions as Timothée scrunches his nose, shaking his head. "Well, I think the odds are in my favor. In a matter of a few months, you and Armie will be good friends."

"If you say so," he smirks, squeezing Ella´s hand as he helps her leap over a bench, her laughter echoing through the hallways.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée makes it back home shortly after four, kicking his shoes to the side and rushing over to the kitchen so he can store everything he bought at the farmers market and has been with him for most of the day. He pours himself a glass of water, drinks it slowly while scrolling through his phone and then heads to the living room, throwing himself down on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table.

He turns on the television, flipping through channels until he stops at a renovation program, which is not something he would usually watch, but since he is in the middle of a renovation and knows there's absolutely nothing else remotely worth it, he's fine settling in for it. His phone starts ringing shortly after and as he looks down at it, he notices it's a facetime call from Pauline and Seth.

He quickly accepts the call, waving over at them, who are apparently sitting comfortably at their favorite coffee shop in New York, which instantly makes Timothée jealous. Just thinking about it, he can almost smell the coffee beans being roasted and the fresh croissants.

"Hey guys."

"Hey, Lover Boy, how you feeling today?"

"Less anxious, if that's what you want to know."

"Why were you so anxious anyway?," Seth wonders. "You´ve always been great at meeting new people, you just have to see this date as some random meet up and everything will be fine."

"You do make a good point," he ponders, leaning back on the couch. "I guess a part of me is just unsure this is the right time for me to go on dates, you know? Yes, I am aware I need to move on with my life and I want a partner, someone I can rely on and have fun with, but everything seems so recent still."

"I understand that, but it's not as recent as it seems and you´ve been working so much lately, that even if this doesn't go well, it doesn't mean it wasn't worth it. At least it will force you to spend a couple of hours away from home, talking to someone other than construction workers."

"Hey, Dean and his team are quite nice."

"I'm sure they are," Pauline chuckles. "Anyway, let's talk about the things that matter. What are you wearing for the date?"

"Basic shirt, jeans and maybe a jacket."

"Are you that uninterested in the guy?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean," Seth clears his throat. "I´ve seen you think more about the outfit you'd wear to the farmers market, Tim."

"Hey, a nice shirt, with some well fitted jeans and a killer jacket can work miracles."

"Yeah, right," Seth rolls his eyes, glances quickly at Pauline and then looks back at Timothée. "Just try not to freak out and everything will be okay. As far as I could tell, Jared already likes you enough, so I guess as long as he can take those clothes off, he will be fine."

"Who said anything about taking the clothes off?"

"Oh, he's playing hard to get."

"I´m not playing hard to get, I just don't know exactly where this date is gonna lead and I don't want anyone expecting things that might not come true, not even you two idiots."

"Well, I think the date is gonna go just fine and you´ll find yourself repeating the dose soon enough," Pauline winks. "Although, I have to admit I think you'd make a better match with Armie."

"What? Are you insane?"

"At least admit he's a gorgeous man."

"He is, but I'm not attracted to him...at all."

"Really? Because even I feel like I am and I'm a straight man."

"I´ve told you a million times already Seth, you´re not as straight as you think you are."

"Fuck off," he rolls his eyes as Timothée laughs.

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sits quietly on the table, his eyes down to the fancy silverware while he bounces his left leg up and down repeatedly, his nervousness starting to get the best of him. He knew it was too soon to dive back into dating, a voice in his brain kept telling him he needed to take more time to himself and let go of all the scars from the past before allowing anyone in.

But he didn't listen to that voice, he thought Jared was different from the other guys and wouldn't do anything that could hurt him in any way, shape or form. Apparently he was wrong, because as the minutes passed and the people around him came and went, it became increasingly clear that he wouldn't show up. 

He checks his phone, not only for the time, but in hopes there would be a message, some sort of explanation to why he was sitting at a fancy restaurant completely alone, being stared at by the waiters, who were probably already laughing behind his back and making him the subject of their amusement. 

"Well, if it isn't Mr. New York."

Timothée frowns, takes a second to register the voice and then glances up, only to see Armie standing less than a feet away from him. He's in black fitted jeans, a nice white shirt and a black bomber jacket, his beard trimmed and his hair slightly shorter than it was the last time he saw him. The restaurant light hits him in a nice angle, making his eyes pop and his tan look even better than it normally does.

"What are you doing here?"

"Eating by myself apparently."

Armie cocks an eyebrow, glances around the restaurant and then slides into the chair across from Timothée. It doesn't go unnoticed by him that he didn't even think of asking if he could sit or not.

"Did you get stood up?"

"It seems like it."

"Well, maybe they just couldn't make it? Whoever was it, they might have a reason for why they did this."

"Maybe, but I don't see an effort to even try and explain why," he sighs, shakes his head and sets his phone down on the table. "It's been almost an hour, I'm sure he could have found a way to let me know he wasn't coming."

"An hour?," Armie exhales, scratching the back of his neck. "Okay, that's a long time without an explanation."

"Guess I'm not worthy of one."

"Or the guy's a jerk," he quickly replies and Timothée can't help but raise his eyebrows. "No one deserves to be stood up, alright?"

"Not even me?"

"Not even you."

Timothée nods, tries to control himself but can't help but smile. Armie seems legitimately sorry for him being stood up, even after the constant arguing between them. For the second time ever since they met, he wonders if perhaps he might have made a mistake judging him so harshly.

"Look, I know I'm not the person you wanted to be having this dinner with, but what you say I join you for the night?"

"What?," he asks incredulous, green eyes wide as he stares up at Armie.

"We're both here already, it seems like a stupid idea to eat at home when we could enjoy a nice and fancy meal."

"Are you serious?"

Armie shrugs, crosses his arms and leans back against the chair. "I promise I can be in complete silence, if that's what you're worried about. I just think we shouldn't waste a perfectly set table just because you don't know how to choose a good man."

Timothée chuckles, rolling his eyes at the fact even when trying to be nice, Armie still finds a way to annoy him.

"So, what do you say? Do I ask for the menu or do I get the hell out of here and you eat alone?"

Timothée bites his lip, stares at Armie for a moment more and then turns around on his seat, gesturing for one of the waiters. He takes the menus in his hand, slides one across the table to Armie and then opens his, his eyes scanning the options.

"So, am I allowed to speak or should I be a silent companion?"

"That depends," Timothée looks at him over his menu. "Are you just gonna try to annoy me or you actually have something worth saying?"

"I promise to be on my best behavior."

"Then proceed."

"Who is the idiot that left you here all alone?"

  
  


* * *

  
  


"...and when I looked back the guy was running after me in his underwear," Armie says between chuckles, while he plays with his glass of wine. "It was the most amusing, yet traumatic moment of my life."

"What? You don't appreciate the idea of a man running after you in his underwear? I misjudged you, Hammer."

"Depends on who the man is," he shrugs, a little cheeky smile appearing on his lips. "I'm all for a sexy and interesting guy running after me, but that was not the case at all."

"Well, at least it got you a fun anecdote," Timothée adds, crossing his arms as he leans back on the chair. "Most of my romantic experiences would result either in boring or utterly saddening stories."

"Oh, c'mon, I doubt that."

"You shouldn't," he scoffs, takes the last sip of his wine and licks his lips. "First things first, I never really had many relationships and the ones I did, were either quite dull or just plain toxic, even if I didn't realize it at first."

Armie stares back at him for a moment, his expression changing into one of concern. He slides his glass to the side, presses his arms on the table and leans closer to Timothée, who can see the worry in his blue eyes.

"Did you go through an abusive relationship?"

"Not physically abusive, but yeah," he nods, realizing soon afterwards that Armie is the first person out of his New York friends and family to whom he tells this. "That's why I moved here, actually."

"You're running away from someone?"

"No, not like that," he smiles, trying to ease Armie's concern, which surprises him quite a bit. "He used me, cheated on me and when I finally realized how bad he had been to me all these years, he proved just how much of an asshole he was by kicking me out of the restaurant we built together."

"What? But how could he do this?"

"Well, the restaurant was technically his, but I was with him throughout every second of the way, you know? I helped him choose the tiles and tables, I helped him hire the staff and worked on the menu all by myself. I devoted my entire life to that place because I thought it was our dream, but in the end I didn't really mean much to him."

"Well, I may not know this guy, but he sounds like a complete asshole, who didn't really deserve your time anyway."

"I know that now," Timothée says with a sad chuckle. "But until three months ago, I actually thought he cared, in a weird and unconventional way, sure, but I thought that I ultimately meant something to him."

"That's usually how it goes," Armie smiles, his expression quite comforting. "Assholes like your last boyfriend tend to make people question themselves, instead of them and their actions. They trick people into thinking their way of loving is different, but it's a scheme, just something they do to make you feel less than you truly are."

"Why does it sound like you've experienced that before?"

"I haven't, but I know people who have, people I tried to help, but didn't listen to me until it was almost too late."

"What happened?"

"She's alright now, but the relationship almost caused her life and for a while I blamed myself for not helping enough, for not doing more to take her away from that man."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't, but I still felt like I failed her somehow."

Timothée stares at him for a second before nodding his head slowly, his eyes down to his hands. He didn't expect to end the night having dinner with Armie, let alone to share with him details he hadn't told people he considered closer than him, yet being there with him felt oddly good.

"Well, I hate to cut this very uplifting conversation short," Armie suddenly says, earning a laugh from Timothée. "But judging by the looks the waiters are giving us, they want to close the restaurant."

"What? It's not like we...," Timothée stops mid sentence, his eyes moving around the restaurant for the first time in hours, the realization that their table is the only one occupied finally hitting him. "We're the only ones here."

"For about an hour."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Armie shrugs. "We were actually having a good time, I didn't want to interrupt."

"God, they must be so mad at us."

"I'll make sure to give them a nice tip," Armie says while pulling out his wallet.

"What you're doing?"

"Paying for dinner?"

"My failed date? Shouldn't I be the one paying? I mean, you basically made me feel less embarrassed to be sitting here all alone, so I think I should do the honors."

Armie scrunches his nose, remains silent for a few seconds and then smiles, leaning closer to Timothée.

"I pay for dinner, you pay for the Churros we're gonna get down the street."

"Okay, I can deal with that."

"I'll be right back," he smiles and pushes himself up, walking towards one of the waiters. As he watches him, Timothée can't help the smile that suddenly takes him over; never in a million years did he expect to have so much fun with him

  
  
  


* * *

It's still a bit surreal to Timothée how his night had gone a completely different path than the one he imagined, with Jared ghosting him and Armie coming to his rescue. He had laughed with him, talked about the most random subjects and confided in him things that up until this point only his family and Seth knew. Why it suddenly felt so easy to be around Armie is something he can't quite answer, but he enjoys it, appreciates the fact they have finally found a way to stop the silly arguments. Even if they were quite amusing at times.

Under the starry sky, they walk in silence, each one of them with a little cone of churros in their hands. Timothée watches his surroundings, notices a group of friends pass by on the other side of the street, a couple sitting on a bench and sharing a pretzel, all the while cars pass them by. Suddenly he wonders exactly what would have happened if Jared had showed up, how their date would go and where he would be at this particular moment. Maybe he would be at his place, awkwardly waiting for his drink as they debated internally whether or not something would happen; or maybe he would already be back home, tucked under the sheets, with his laptop open while he did more research for his restaurant.

"Hey, I want to apologize."

"For what?," Timothée asks, glancing up at Armie.

"For everything I've said ever since we met," he explains. He stops, sighs and looks down at his feet, only to look Timothée in the eye only seconds later. "After what you told me, I've just realized that my behavior could have triggered you somehow and that wasn't my intention at all, but I also didn't think of the effects my actions had on you."

Timothée smiles, tucks a curl behind his ear and shakes his head, taking a step closer to Armie, whose eyes remain locked on him the entire time.

"You don't have to apologize for that, Armie. The whole banter between the two of us was nothing like the things I went through with Wes. He manipulated me, convinced me to do things I didn't want and minimized myself and my dreams. Not even for a minute I thought what you were doing was the same thing as he did, so you don't have to feel bad about anything. In the end, I was the one who said you were trying to rob me and ran over your feet with a shopping cart, you just liked to tease me."

"I still feel bad though," he admits, exhaling deeply. "I should have treated you better."

"Well, I wasn't exactly a saint with you either."

"That's true."

Timothée chuckles, his hand instinctively moving up towards Armie's arm. He bites his lip the moment he notices what he's done, allows his eyes down to where his hand is at and swallows thickly. He can feel Armie's muscle, the warmth of his skin through his jacket and when their eyes meet again, Timothée feels a light shiver run down his spine. 

Suddenly time seems to slow down, the seconds that lead to Armie laying his hand on Timothée's hip feeling almost like hours. The shiver he first felt now turns into goosebumps, his knees feel strangely weak and unconsciously -or not, he isn't even sure of anything by this point-, he wets his lips in anticipation for what will happen next. When he feels Armie's breathing against his, deep blue eyes staring right back into his green ones, Timothée fears he might lose his breath. Had anyone told him this is how he would end his night, Timothée would have laughed hysterically, but now all he wanted was to Armie to simply close the gap between them and press his lips against his.

And as if he had read his mind, Armie does exactly that. His hand slides further down his waist and pulls him closer, crashing their lips together in a slow and sensual kiss. Timothée feels his knees tremble, the hand that was already holding onto Armie's biceps gripping now even tighter, the churros that had been long forgotten falling to the pavement. When Armie's tongue invades his mouth, Timothée moans softly, his fingers gently tracing his beard, while his body seems to catch on fire.

  
  
  


* * *

The door closes behind him, the darkness of the night engulfing the entire living room, but Timothée doesn't really mind about any of that. His body is feverish, his hands are slightly shaky and his breathing labored. The five minute ride was excruciating, his mind constantly going back to the kiss they shared in the middle of the sidewalk, the way his body reacted to Armie's touch and just how mind blowing good it felt to have his body -and lips- pressed against his.

Biting his lip, Timothée's eyes wander around the minimalist living room, which has only a large couch, two armchairs, a small coffee table with magazines on top and a bookshelf that resembles his in more ways than others. He smiles, just now realizing that they were not that different after all and maybe that's exactly why the moment they finally let their guards down and allowed themselves to get to know one another, things sparkled this fast.

Suddenly hands are sliding down his sides and pressing hard against his hips, bringing him back to reality. And in the real and present world, Armie has his body pressed against his, his lips laying sensual kisses all over his neck and shoulder, while he can perfectly feel the outline of his hard cock against his ass. And damn, he knows Armie's all big and manly, but what he feels pressed against his ass is a cock that deserves to be worshipped, which is something he is more than willing to do.

He tilts his head back, closes his eyes and laces their fingers together, dragging one of Armie's hands further down his body until it's inside his jeans and cupping him through his tight boxers. He lets out a low and breathy gasp, pushes his ass backwards to grind against Armie, his cock only growing harder as Armie's large and warm hand starts to stroke him ever so slowly.

Gently, Timothée slides a hand to the back of Armie's neck, his fingers playing with any hair he can find, his neck completely exposed to his delight. His body seems to be on fire, burning a hundred degrees with every single touch, every husky moan that escapes from Armie's lips. They have barely started and yet Timothée already feels so much pleasure, he can barely convey it into actual words.

He feels Armie's tongue on his ear, goosebumps all across his body as his voice fills up the air, his dirty words sounding almost like gospel. Timothée moans, tugs on Armie's short hair and then forces himself to turn around; and while he misses the touch of his hand on his cock or his hot breathing against his neck, as he stares into his eyes, Timothée nearly falls down to his knee from the intensity of it.

He swallows thickly when Armie's arms wrap around his waist, his large hands sprawled against his back as he leans their foreheads together. They don't break eye contact for a whole minute, but don't say a word either, the only sound in the house is the one that comes from their heavy breathing. When Armie finally closes the gap between them and kisses him, Timothée grips onto his shirt, his tongue invading his mouth in a matter of seconds. 

It doesn't take much long for Armie to lift him up and it doesn't go by unnoticed to Timothée just how easily he does so. He could manhandle him easily if he wanted to, and if he's being completely honest, Timothée would love to get a glimpse of how it would be. He wraps his arms around Armie's neck, a smile spreading across his lips when Armie gently squeezes his ass. He hears the creaking of a door opening and suddenly realizes they are already in the bedroom, Armie skillfully kicking the door shut while still holding tightly onto his body.

Timothée then thinks about all the farm work Armie has done ever since he was a teenager, the hours under the Sun working on the family's plantation and figures carrying him, must be the least of his problems. He giggles when he's thrown down at the bed, crawls up to the pillows and kicks his shoes off, hearing it tumble down on the ground. While he removes his jacket, Timothée watches in pure pleasure as Armie stands tall by the bed, removing every single piece of clothing from his body.

And fuck, what a body does he have. He's got muscles, but he's not buff, his tan is beautiful and with a natural look to it, far from the orange tone so many people have. From head to toe, Armie looks incredible, perfect in his own way and sexy beyond words. 

Timothée kicks his jeans and boxers down his legs, struggling to get them through his feet, which results in a very unflattering moment where he thrashes himself around the bed, but much to his luck -and surprise-, Armie seems more amused than turned off by the sight. He smiles, holds his legs down and then gently pulls his jeans off, throwing them over his shoulder.

As he crawls on the bed, Timothée bites his lip, dropping his head back when he lays a kiss on his inner thigh. He grips tightly onto the bed sheets, trying to control the moans that keep escaping through his lips, but finds his efforts to be futile. When Armie is hovering on top of him, each arm on one side of his body, his legs trapping him in between him and his face mere inches away from his, all he can do is stare back at his blue eyes, which seem to hypnotize him.

He cradles his face, runs his fingers down his hair and then down his chest, taking his time to fully appreciate the touch of his golden chest hair against his palm. He grunts, pushes Armie down and straddles him, his lips almost immediately attached to his skin, kissing, licking and biting all over his chest. Their cocks rub together, their moans mix together in perfect harmony and with each touch, Timothée seems to feel a jolt of electricity go through him.

He pecks Armie's lips, slides down the bed and parts his legs, nestling himself in between them, his hands stroking his thighs. He smiles at himself, his eyes unable to leave the cock that throbs in front of him, begging for a little bit of attention. And it doesn't take long for Timothée to devote all his attention to said cock, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a couple of strokes while his tongue teases the tip. 

"Fuck," Armie hisses, his back arching and his hands gripping onto the sheet as Timothée slowly takes him in his mouth, inch after inch filling him up and stretching out his lips.

Timothée meets his gaze, humming against his cock as at least a dozen different expressions go through Armie's face. He moans, curses, thrusts his hips forward and finally tangles his fingers on his hair, encouraging Timothée to go deeper, which he gladly does. 

Armie's voice fills the air, his words of praise acting like a conduit straight to his cock, which grows impossibly harder as time goes by, precum leaking from the head and smearing all over the sheets. He moans against Armie's cock, moves his hands around his naked body, taking some special time on his chest hair. Weirdly enough, Timothée had never really cared much about a man's chest hair before, but for some reason Armie made him realize just how sexy it could be.

Once he no longer can control his urges, Timothée takes Armie's cock out of his mouth, the popping sound that echoes across the room nearly obscene. He kneels down in between his legs, licks his lips and smiles as Armie glances up at him, his cheeks flushed and a thin layer of sweat coating his body, which makes him shine as the moonlight comes in through the window and hits him.

"God, you're beautiful," Armie nearly whispers, taking him by the arm and pulling him down, their lips connected as soon as possible. He slides his hands down his back, feeling every little bump of his spine before he rests his hands against his asscheeks, stroking gently before giving it a quick slap.

Timothée giggles, grinds himself against Armie and nearly feels his eyes roll to the back of his head when Armie gently rubs against his hole, his finger adding pressure at his entrance just to tease him. He buries his face against his neck, laying wet kisses on his skin as a finger finally enters him, the sensation better than anything he felt the last few weeks. 

Slowly Armie builds up a pace, his finger -which quickly turns into two and eventually three- moving in and out of his hole at a steady pace, while his teeth nibble against his ear and his beard tickles and burns his sensitive skin. His body feels heavy, completely lost in the sensations Armie is providing and yet he aches for more. He wants the full experience, feeling Armie's cock enter him until their bodies are connected as one.

"Fuck me," he whispers on Armie's ear and nearly squeals when he swiftly rolls them over on the bed. Timothée bites his lip, watches as Armie reaches for his nightstand and takes a condom out of it, ripping the package open. He takes it from him, rolls onto his cock slowly and smiles when Armie can't hold back his moans, his cock throbbing against his hand as Timothée gives it a few more strokes.

It only takes a couple of seconds for Armie to get the head of his cock inside him, but Timothée could swear the whole thing lasted a couple of very long and delicious minutes. From the pressure of his head pressing against his opening, to the toe curling feel he got when the first bit popped in, Timothée was in cloud nine, his whole body reacting to Armie, his touch and his cock, which slowly penetrates him until there is nothing left. 


	12. California King Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

Timothée sighs, spreading his leg around the bed as he slowly opens his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the brightness that comes in through the window. He frowns, taking a good minute to remember where he is and let the knowledge that he has slept with Armie sink in. He closes his eyes quickly, biting his lip and scrunching his nose as he replays the previous night in his head and everything that led to the moment he hit his mattress and found himself completely naked under him.

He inhales deeply, slowly turns his head to the other side and becomes face to face with a sleeping Armie, who's short hair is a bit of a mess and cheeks are a rose shade after being pressed against the pillow. He looks peaceful and as usually, extremely gorgeous, which is something Timothée feels like he can admit to after what happened. While he never actually thought of the possibility of him being attracted to Armie, he had to admit he was one of the most gorgeous men he had ever laid eyes on. His tall figure, his physic, the way he smiled and how deep blue his eyes were. Ironically, he was the complete opposite of Wes and most guys he had ever been with, which thinking about it, might be exactly what he needed. 

Sometimes a change of air is all we truly need.

He sighs, blinks a couple of times and then gently and ever so slowly slides down to the edge of the bed, trying his best to get up without disturbing Armie. He scans the room for his belongings, skimps his phone, wallet and clothes around the floor and then quickly puts them on, nearly falling as he rushes to put on his jeans and the hem gets stuck in his heels. He curses under his breath, steadies himself up and takes a breath, only then taking his time to put the pants on the right way.

Moving frantically around the room, Timothée only stops once he stands in front of the mirror, taking a look at himself. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to look somewhat presentable and after he grabs his shoes, Timothée tiptoes to the door. He stops just as he turns the handle, wetting his lips as he looks over his shoulder at the bed, where Armie still lies, completely unaware of all that is going on in his bedroom. He sleeps so profoundly, he could be mugged and wouldn't even notice.

He eyes his body, glances over at the small desk on the side where a couple of pens, papers and post-its are set around the laptop, thinks of writing down a note or something, but chooses not to. What would he even say?  _ Thanks for the good night of sex, hope you give me an answer about that proposal soon? _

He shakes his head, carefully closes the door behind him and quickly puts on his shoes, before rushing down the hallway and out of the house. He lets out a breath once he's in the front yard, the Sun high up in the sky, kids already running around the streets and young couples walking their dogs. He checks the time, it's nearly ten and the world is wide awake; while he slowly makes his way back home, in his mind only one simple thought. 

How on earth did he end up sleeping with Armie freaking Hammer?

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée leans against the closed door, his eyes distant, his jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed. There's a weird combination of emotions running through his body, a mess of thoughts clouding his brain, making it almost impossible for him to simply be. He shouldn't have left the way he did, he should have stayed, waited until Armie had woken up so they could sit down and have a conversation about what happened between them. Timothée knew this was the right thing to be done.

Yet, as much as he knew that, he was also fully aware he probably wouldn't be able to hold said conversation for more than a minute. Mainly because Timothée didn't quite understand what was going on inside of him at the moment, he couldn't wrap his head around what led him to sleep with Armie. Yes, he had enjoyed the time they spent together, the way they laughed and how smoothly their conversation went; he adored the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against his, or how his large hands would travel down his sides and squeeze his waist as he pulled him close; he ravished on the way his beard tickled his skin as he kissed down his naked body.

Still, that was Armie, the man he had been arguing with for over a month. The one person who always seemed to find a way to piss him off and leave him red in anger. How could all of that change in the course of a night? How was it possible that a date that was supposed to be with someone else ended in him questioning everything he thought about Armie and their weird relationship?

Startled by his phone vibrating, Timothée jumps in place, cursing under his breath. He reaches for it on his back pocket, swallowing thickly as he sees a message notification from Armie. He opens it, wetting his lips as he reads its content, his heart beating incredibly faster and his hands slightly shaky. He shouldn't feel this way, he should own up to what happened and just face it head first, like any grown person would do. Still, Timothée was never really the one night stand kind of guy and he didn't even know if what had happened between him and Armie could be considered a one night stand. They had hitted off, genuinely enjoyed each other's company, leading Timothée to share things with him only his family and Seth knew. 

There was a connection, an emotional share between them and that was what left Timothée so incredibly confused. Was he having feelings for Armie? Did Pauline, Seth and Lauren actually notice something before he even did? Was it even possible for something real to work out between the two of them? Sadly, he doesn't have the answers to any of those questions, which leads him to simply ignoring Armie's message.

He tosses his phone to the couch, makes his way down the hallway and over to his bedroom, which he stares at for a second or two. He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair and takes off his shirt and jeans, tossing them to the armchair before walking to the bathroom. He stands in front of the mirror, trying to get his head to stop spinning and his body to relax, but there's not enough breathing exercises in the world that seem to suit him at the moment. He kicks off his boxers, turns on the shower and steps in, the warm water washing away any remains of his night with Armie. 

He closes his eyes, runs his fingers through his damp hair and slowly finds himself relaxing. He stays there for a couple of minutes, allowing himself to clear his mind and focus only on the way the water feels against his skin. He turns off the shower, steps out and pulls on the towel, wrapping it around his waist. He swiftly dries himself off, puts on some clean clothes and then wanders around the house, trying to find something to focus on. He grabs his phone, noticing the messages Pauline has been sending ever since the previous night, but also ignores them as he walks into the kitchen, starting off the coffee machine.

* * *

  
  
  


There are sheets of papers and charts spread across the coffee table, the laptop open and on the screen about six different tabs, all of them related to something about food. On the open notebook, a list of dishes, desserts and drinks, some scored-out, while others have a tiny little dot beside it. The colorful mug is empty, resting on top of the plate where at some point a grilled cheese was set, but now only the crumbles remain.

Sitting on the couch, with his legs crossed and his hands behind his neck, Timothée has his eyes closed, inhaling deeply as he tries to relax after hours in front of the computer researching for his menu. He flicks his eyes open, stares up at the ceiling and bites his lip, the memories of the previous night coming back, the hair on his arm sticking up as he thinks about the way Armie´s hand would slide down his spine. 

A low moan escapes him and he runs his fingers through his hair, staring up ahead of him. For a second is almost as if he's back in Armie´s house, lying on his bed as he undresses him, his wet lips sliding down his feverish skin and causing his cock to throb. He grunts, pushes himself up and wanders around the living room, forcing himself to forget everything about that night, focusing solely on what's truly important to him. 

He needs to start working on the menu for the restaurant, decide exactly in what direction he's gonna go and start making a few tests. The construction will be done in a matter of weeks and while afterwards he will have to focus on the decor of the restaurant, he needs to make sure the menu is prepared and ready for tasting; he has absolutely no time to waste thinking about his sexcapades.

The doorbell catches his attention and he glances over his shoulder, a frown forming on his face as he wonders if there's any chance of Armie being there, demanding some explanation after he ignored every single one of his messages. For a slipt second he thinks it´s best if he simply pretends he´s not home, but he soon realizes just how childish and stupid that sounds. He walks to the door, taking in a deep breath before opening, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sees Lauren standing there.

"Hey, neighbor."

"Hey."

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," she says, catching a glimpse of the mess in the living room.

"Don´t worry," Timothée says, pointing over to his coffee table. "You´re actually doing me a big favor distracting me from all that work," he says, as if the work really was the thing he wanted to keep his mind off.

"I just stopped by to hand you these cookies," she explains. "I´m going to my mother´s house and baked some with Ella, who said we had to give you some of them too."

"Ella gets me."

Lauren chuckles. "I'm starting to think every time we cook something now, she´ll make sure we have some for you too."

"I like that idea."

"Of course you do," she chuckles, handing him the plate. "Hope you like them, Tim."

"Thank you, Lauren."

She smiles and turns around, going down the few steps before she stops, glancing at Timothée over her shoulder, a curious expression in her eyes.

"Wait, you had that date last night, right?"

"Right."

"And how was it?"

"It was... different from what I had expected."

"In a good way?"

Timothée bites his lip, his eyes down for a second before he looks at her with a little smile, nodding his head.

"Yes, it was in a good way."

"Are you guys going out again?"

"I don´t know yet," he shrugs, the mere thought of him and Armie going out sending shivers down his spine. How on earth did he go from being angry at every single one of their interactions, to barely being able to contain himself when he thinks of him? "I think we'll have to wait and see."

"Well, if it was a good date and you had fun, then I hope you can repeat the dose. God knows you need to take a few breaks from all the work you've been doing."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I have to go now."

"Thanks for the cookies."

"No problem."

Timothée sighs, takes a quick look around the neighborhood and then closes the door. He smacks his lips together, reaches for his phone in his back pocket and notices his sister has sent a couple more messages, but also realizes that Armie has given up after he didn't answer any of the ones he sent this morning. 

He wanders around the living room, sits on the arm of the couch and hovers his fingers above the keyboard, thinking of a way to reply to him, say something that could possibly ignite a conversation, but nothing seems good enough. Truth be told, Timothée doesn´t know what he wants and it might be good to figure that out before he even dares to face Armie.

* * *

  
  
  


"...I trust you´ll do what is best, thank you."

Timothée hangs up the phone with a sigh, pockets it and takes a quick look around the street ahead of crossing it. He is in an area of the city he has never been to before, but thanks to Lauren, who has given him a tip on where to find the best antique stores, he finds himself contemplating the many stores, debating on each to go in first.

He eventually makes up his mind, walking in on the closest to him, which has a beautiful chandelier right on the entrance. Timothée stares at it bewildered, the details rich and delicate, the cut of the glass precise. When the sunlight shines through it, a kaleidoscope of colors is projected on the wall and he can´t help but smile.

Walking further into the store, Timothée notices the vast variety of objects and furniture they have, going from sofas to garden statues, one in particular which would look incredible at the backyard of the restaurant. He walks to it, checks the price tag and smirks, surprised at the price, which makes him seriously contemplate the idea of buying it.

After a quick visit to the restaurant building to talk to Dean about the problems they had faced the last week, Timothée had decided it would be nice to spend the rest of the day taking care of the decorative part of the restaurant, buying the things he already knew he wanted to have there; things that either resembled something from his past or simply matched the innumerable ideas he had developed in his head during the last ten years of his life.

He stops in front of a hutch, his hand slowly tracing the material, his eyes sparkling with the possibilities. Right beside it, an old iron plaque is set and Timothée takes it in his hand, gently maneuvering the object as he tries to come up with places he could hang it. He hears voices and turns on his heels, watching as a woman in her late thirties says goodbye to a young couple, wide smiles on their faces as they leave the antique store with at least half a dozen bags.

"Good morning," the woman says with a smile once she spots him. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I don´t think even you can help me right now," he chuckles. "I'm pretty much in love with everything I see."

"That's exactly what I am going for," she winks, standing her hand out. "I´m Tessa."

"Timothée."

"Okay, Timothée, what exactly are you looking for?"

"I´m about to open a restaurant and I'm looking for things I could use in the design."

"I see," she nods, eyes wandering around the room. "Do you have any specific design you´re going for? Most people nowadays go for a clean and minimalistic design, maybe just plants and modern lightning."

"And I like that, but I want to incorporate something different. I'm from New York, the architecture of the city is one the things I love the most about it, so I want to integrate that into the restaurant, without making it look like a caricature."

"Wow, you´re a complex one."

"So I´ve been told," he chuckles, scratching his neck as he looks around.

"Still, I think I have some things that might appeal to you. Would you like to see?"

"Of course," he smiles, following her through the store, his eyes constantly wandering around, spotting everything and falling in love with different objects every second. He suddenly stops, biting his lip as he takes a few steps closer to the swing that hangs from the ceiling; the wood is painted white, but there's a rustic aspect to it, something Timothée absolutely loves. 

"This swing is almost thirty five years old," she explains, arms crossed as she watches Timothée. "The guy built it when his wife got pregnant for the first time, but they sold about two months ago."

"It's been here for two months?"

"Yep. A swing on the front porch doesn't seem like the most Los Angeles thing in the world, does it?"

"No, not really," Timothée admits with a chuckle. "But it's beautiful and it looks incredible for something that was made in the late eighties."

"With the right material and with care, things can last quite a long time. The man who sold me this swing said his father preserved it with such care, his mother even got a bit jealous of it."

Timothée laughs, his hands tracing the swing, his eyes landing on the price tag by the side.

"I'm gonna take it."

"For the restaurant?"

"Not a bad idea," he admits. "But no, I have a front porch and while it isn't really big, I think this swing will fit perfectly there. It sure will provide me quite a nice place to sit during the warm summer nights."

"Sounds lovely."

"Hope is as lovely as it sounds," he smiles, taking one last look at the swing before walking towards Tessa. "Okay, now let's focus on the restaurant."

"Right. Since you mentioned New York and how you want to incorporate the essence of it to the place, I think you´ll like some of the things I have here, and while it might not be..."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée wanders down the busy streets of Los Angeles, his eyes attentive to his surroundings, taking in every little store and coffee shop, finding things that are still new for him even after almost two months in the city. He stops by the churros place he and Armie went by on Saturday after they left the restaurant, biting his lip as he remembers how easy it was to talk to him, the way he made him laugh with his silly jokes and how enthusiastic he sounded with every story he told. 

He sighs, thinks back at all the messages he left on Sunday, how mad he must be at him for ignoring him the way he is doing, but Timothée knows right now his head is too much of a mess. He thinks fondly of the night they had, but at the same time dreads the idea that whatever happened on Saturday night was just an illusion and once they are face to face again, they will be arguing the same way they did before.

Trying not to dwell much on the subject, Timothée walks inside a coffee shop, the air conditioner bringing a much needed relief from the hot Monday morning. He walks to the counter, takes the menu in his hand, orders himself a large pink lemonade and a sandwich, smiling at the barista as she registers the order and gives him his change. He takes a quick look around, noticing the place is almost empty and takes a seat at a table by the window, from where he can see the movement in the streets and the Hollywood sign on the distance. 

He checks his phone, scrolling through his messages, a vague attempt to see if there is anything from Jared there. The man completely disappeared, ghosted him in a way he never expected him to do and which brought him back to the days were Wes would do the exact same, only difference is that once he finally replied back, Wes would come up with an excuse, normally paired with something beautiful and romantic to make Timothée forget about what he had done. And while he doubts Jared is the same, Timothée still can´t help but get mad every single time he realizes another hour has gone by without even an apology.

He shakes his head, knowing there's no reason to put much thought into such a thing, specially since he was never really into him. He just wanted to see if he could go on a date again, if he still cared about any of those things and Armie did just that. He glances up as the barista approaches him, setting his order down with a smile; he thanks her, takes a sip of his lemonade and stares out of the window, just as his phone starts ringing, Pauline´s name lightning up the screen.

"Hello?"

"Next time you ignore me for over a day, I´ll hop on a plane to Los Angeles and kick your motherfucking ass, Chalamet. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I do understand you."

"What the hell is wrong with you, dude?"

"Pauline, there's no need for so much drama."

"Drama?," she nearly screams. "Last time I talked to you, you were about to go out on a date, then you completely disappeared on me and Seth. We called and texted you, but you simply ignored us for over thirty six hours and you have the audacity to say I'm being dramatic? Fuck you."

"Sorry," he sighs, looking down. "I didn't mean to scare you guys."

"Why did you ignore us?"

"I just needed some time to think some things through."

There´s a pause and Timothée cocks an eyebrow, knowing full well his sister is gonna come with the big questions now.

"How was the night anyway?"

"I was going to say it was good, but that would be a lie."

"Sorry."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. It was a great night, just not at all how I thought it would be."

"So, is Jared as nice and sexy as he seemed to be?"

"I wouldn't know, he never showed up."

"What the fuck are you talking about?," she asks, her voice slightly pitched. "You said the night was great."

"It was a great night, Jared simply wasn't part of it."

"Enlighten me, please."

"Jared stood me up," he explains, taking a small bite of the sandwich. "But as I was sitting there like a complete idiot, Armie showed up and asked if I wanted him to make me some company."

There´s a chuckle that echoes through the line and Timothée can almost see the look in his sister's face.

"Is this going where I think it is?," she eventually asks, amusement clear in her voice. "Did you and Armie..."

"Yes, we did."

"And?"

"Honestly, one of the best nights of my life."

"I fucking knew it."

"Yeah, right."

"I mean it, brother. What you guys thought was annoyance, everyone else saw as a spark and I´m pretty damn sure we all knew it was just a matter of time for it to happen."

"You really mean that?," he questions, scrunching his nose. "Because while it was incredible, it has left me with so many fucking questions, I don´t even know what to do."

"Oh man, what is it now?"

"How much time do you have?"

"For you? All the time in the world."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The windows are wide open, the afternoon Sun coming in and illuminating the kitchen, where there's music playing. With his hip leaned against the counter, Timothée takes his time kneading dough, his hands -and arms- with traces of flour and on his lips a small smile. Cooking has always been like therapy for him, no matter how long it took him to do something, it always made him feel lighter and more in touch with himself, which was one of the reasons why at such a young age he already knew cooking was what he wanted to do with his life.

He stops for a moment, cleans his hand and reaches for a glass of wine, which he sips off before turning on his heels. He opens one of the cupboards, eyes roaming around for the perfect baking sheet. He finally finds the one he wants, fishes out for it and rinses quickly on the sink, drying it up before he sets it down on the counter. He takes another sip of wine, licking his lips afterwards, the taste lingering on his mouth while he kneads the dough a bit more and then molds it into the shape he wants, carefully placing it down on the baking sheet.

Swinging to the rhythm of the song, Timothée takes the baking sheet to the oven, sliding it in and swiftly closing it. He checks the temperature, smiles and then twirls around, cleaning his hands on the apron as he walks back to the sink, biting his lip as he notices the mess he's left behind. While cooking is one of the things he loves most in the world, washing the dishes sure doesn't feature on the list, which always leaves him in quite the complicated situation.

He sighs, about to turn on the tap when the doorbell rings and he stops midway. He glances over his shoulder, takes off the apron and rushes to the living room, stopping in front of the door just as he is about to reach for the doorknob. Once again, he wonders if it's Armie, who decided to knock on his door and demand some sort of explanation for what happened and why he would ignore him. 

As the doorbell rings again, Timothée inhales deeply, ready to face whatever comes his way. He opens the door, a dozen different expressions crossing his face as he sees Jared standing there, an apologetic smile on his lips and a box of what looks like chocolate in his hands. 

"Well, at least I know you´re alive."

"I´m sorry."

"Are you? Because if that's true, I´d think you would have at least tried to contact me and explain why the hell you left me hanging."

"I know it was dick move for me to do that, but a lot happened the last two days."

"Tell me about it," he practically mumbles.

"And I know you´re probably confused as hell, but..."

"I was confused, but that was when I was sitting in the restaurant for over an hour, wondering where the hell you were. Since then I have gone through quite a lot of emotions, but right now all I can feel is disappointment."

"I didn't mean to do this to you, Timothée," he says and Timothée bites his lip, unsure if he's being sincere or not. "I got called in an emergency that lasted over four hours, I was completely spent afterwards and went straight home, I slept nearly the whole Sunday and when I did wake up, my parents were at my door and I just..."

"That's quite the elaborate excuse," he cuts him off. "And I´m not exactly sure I believe in it."

"And you have all the right not to, but I ask you to give me a second chance to make it alright."

"Jared, there are a couple of reasons why I decided to move here from New York, fucked up relationships being one of them. When I got here, I knew I didn't want to focus on any of that, I wanted to work on my restaurant, learn more about myself and be my own person. I questioned my decision to go on a date with you, but figured I was in good hands, because you were so nice to me and we had fun when we were out with your sister, so I thought it could work. When you didn't show up, I felt that, because a part of me was saying that I should have just followed my gut and said no."

"I know I fucked up and sorry doesn't seem like enough, but I really, really would appreciate it if you could give me a second chance."

"And what do you have in mind?"

"Can we have lunch tomorrow? I'll explain everything that happened, word for word and if afterwards you still don´t believe or feel like we´re better off as we were, I'll accept it and just move along with my life," he forces a smile and Timothée sighs. "Please, let me show you that you were actually right about me."

Timothée crunches his nose, bites his lip, but ends up nodding.

"Fine, tomorrow at one. You can stop by at the restaurant and we´ll go somewhere from there, does that sound good?"

"Perfect," he smiles, stretching out his arm to hand Timothée the box of chocolates. "It seems kind of silly to give a chef a box of chocolate, but I remember you said you loved this brand, so I thought it would go well along with the apology."

"Thank you."

"You probably have things to do and I´ll let you get back to them, but thank you for the opportunity."

"Just don't let me down again."

"I won´t."

Timothée smiles, watches as Jared turns on his heels and rushes down the steps and across the yard to his car. He closes the door, a frown upon his face as he leans against the door, eyes distant as he wonders if he did the right thing by agreeing to go out with Jared again. Things didn't work out the first time, insisting on it could easily make things even worse and that's...

"Fuck, my bread," he groans, rushing back to the kitchen.

* * *

  
  
  


“I don't get it.”

Pauline's voice echoes after a moment of silence, in which Timothée patiently stared at the screen, knowing full well his sister and best friend had at least a couple dozen thoughts on their heads and were ready to shower him with questions. None of that was a surprise though, when Timothée decided to tell them what had happened earlier with Jared, he knew what the outcome would be and just like clockwork, they were now starting to come.

"You agreed on going on a date with the guy, even though you are in no shape or form attracted to him, then he stoods you up, ghosts you for almost two whole days and you still say yes to a new date?," Pauline shrugs, the look in her face of pure confusion. "What the fuck is going on, Tim?"

"Okay, we need to clear some things up," he holds up a finger, eyes wandering from Pauline to Seth, both of them eagerly waiting for his explanation. "This is not a date, alright? We're gonna have lunch and talk, mainly about why he didn't show up to our date. It's not a big deal."

"It's still weird," Seth adds, crunching his nose.

"Why is it weird?"

"You're not attracted to the guy, you decided to go on a date with him basically just so you could try to get your mind off of work and you slept with someone else. Shouldn't you be focusing on that instead of insisting on something that has already proven to be a mistake?"

"We didn't even have the chance to go on our date, Seth, how was it a mistake?"

"You slept with someone else, dude." he says, quite exasperated. "You went on a date with a completely different person, had fun and ended up in bed together. In my book, that's not exactly a successful date."

"He's right," Pauline says before Timothée can even think of a reply. "And as far as I can tell, you and Armie had a real connection, so maybe you should try and focus on that instead of forcing this thing with Jared. I mean, he looks like a great guy and I'm happy he looked for you and tried to explain himself, but going out with him again is just gonna give him false hope. You don't wanna be with him, do you?"

Timothée bites his lip, eyes distant as he shakes his head. "No, I don't feel anything for him. He seems like a good guy and I guess he was being genuine when he said he liked me, but I don't want to jump into a relationship where only one person is really into it."

"Then cancel lunch."

"Or maybe," Seth frowns, tilting his head to the side. "Maybe you could go to lunch and explain the whole situation to him, make sure it's an honest conversation and let him know that for now all you can give him is your friendship."

"Good point," Pauline smiles. "Then you go and talk to Armie."

"Do I have to?," he asks, which earns him a glare from both his sister and best friend. "Jesus, I was only joking."

"No, you were not."

"Little brother, I love you from the bottom of my heart, but if you keep on ignoring Armie, I'm gonna have to kick your ass."

"I'm not ignoring him, I'm just..."

"You're ignoring him, dude," Seth cuts him off. "And if I remember correctly, you didn't like when Jared did the same to you, did you?"

Timothée sighs, fingers running through his hair as he ponders the situation. He knew from the moment he got Armie's first text that it was wrong not to reply to him, give him some sort of explanation as to why things happened the way they did. But it took this conversation for him to realize just how bad Armie must be feeling, how mad he must be with him for simply pretending that nothing happened.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just thinking. I hate to do this, okay? I didn't want to ignore him in any way, but I also don't know what to say to him, because I don't know what I'm feeling right now. Until Saturday morning he was simply the guy that annoyed the hell out of me, now he's someone I confided in, someone I actually shared a laugh with and had a great night. I'm confused as hell."

"Understandable," Pauline nods. "But have you stopped to think that he might be just as confused as you are and that's why it is so important that you talk?"

"I hate you."

"No, you don't," she smirks. "Just go get a shower, relax your mind a little bit and then text him, even if just to say you need some time to think. I'm sure he's gonna understand."

"Yeah, Armie's a great guy, he won't be mad if you just explain yourself."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"I want screenshots as proof, alright?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"No," they both say in unison, making Timothée roll his eyes and end the meeting. He sighs, closes the laptop and places it down on the coffee table before getting up, cell phone in hand as he tries to come up with a text that will be good enough, that can translate how genuine he is even with only a couple of words. 

He stares down at the phone, knuckles turning white from how tight his grip is. He starts typing, frowns as he reads the message and then deletes it all, tossing the phone back to the couch before he makes his way to his bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which one of you guessed Timmy would freak out? But give the poor guy a break, there's a lot in his head now, but he'll eventually see it clearer 😉


	13. I Just Wanna Give You The Loving That You're Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the actual date

Timothée stands by the entrance of the bathrooms, or what will eventually become the bathrooms, his eyes wandering from one construction worker to the other as they rush from side to side, carrying tubes and pipes. There are gallons of paint on the left corner, sets of mirrors and faucets, all waiting for the problems to be fixed so they can be installed in their righteous place.

As he watches the scene unfold, Dean is standing by his side, talking relentlessly about things he simply doesn't understand. Since day one, Dean's doing everything he can to keep Timothée apart of every little thing that goes, every detail they have to change in order to achieve what he wants, every problem that they face and what is the best solution; yet, despite all his efforts, most of time Timothée is lost amid technical terms. 

"...and that's how we came into this decision. What do you say?"

Timothée blinks a couple of times, bites his lip and slowly turns to Dean, a small but genuine smile spreading across his lips. It doesn't take long for Dean to chuckle, clearly understanding his expression.

"You didn't understand shit of what I said, did you?"

"No, I didn't," he admits with a shrug. "But I trust you're doing what's best, because that's what you've been doing since day one. So, do whatever you have to do, because as long as I have a functioning bathroom, I can make it work somehow."

"That you'll have," he assures him. "It might not have the exact configuration you and the architect thought of, but it also won't be too far off, so whatever you had planned in terms of decoration will most likely still be done."

"Thanks, Dean," he smiles, patting his shoulder. "I need to go through some papers, but you call me if you need anything, I'll be in the backyard."

"Luckily, I won't need you around anymore."

"Fingers crossed you're right," he shouts while exiting the bathroom, eyes wandering to the main room before he walks down the hallway and to the backyard, sliding the glass doors open and taking in the fresh air. 

He sits down at the iron table, sets his clipboard down along with a book and a small folder, which contains all the 3D images of what the restaurant will soon be looking like. He sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he looks around himself, realising just how tired he truly is and it's not even midday yet. He leans against the table, a pencil dangling in between his fingers as he scans through the paper attached to the clipboard, his daily chore list quite daunting. 

He's lucky enough the day isn't as hot as the previous ones had been, because while he's been slowly getting used to everything Los Angeles has to offer, even after two months the heat remains one of his biggest issues. But what else could anyone expect from a guy that was born and raised in New York and barely ever left the city, even during the holidays?

"Timothée," he hears his name being called and groans, ready to hear about yet another problem Dean has faced. He sighs, glances over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow as he sees the chief of construction standing there. "There's someone here looking for you."

"Thanks, Dean, I'll be right there," he collects his things, pushes himself up from the chair and slowly makes his way back inside, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Aren't you a bit early for..."

He stops as he sees Armie standing there, arms crossed above his chest, beard perfectly trimmed, dark jeans and a plaid shirt above a white t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He swallows thickly, unable to form any coherent words or even think straight at the moment. All he does is stare at him.

"Thought I was someone else?," he asks, his hoarse voice nearly destabilizing Timothée, who can't help but be taken back to the night they spent together. "Of course you were, considering you've been ignoring me for two days now."

"I wasn't ignoring you."

"You didn't answer my calls or my texts, I'm pretty damn sure that's considered ignoring. But don't worry, I can understand why you'd do such a thing, what happened on Saturday night was quite unexpected."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ghost you that way, I simply..."

"You don't have to apologize."

"I feel like I have to."

"You don't," Armie assures him, taking a few steps closer. "I actually didn't come here because of what happened."

"Then why did you..,” Timothée suddenly remembers it's Tuesday, the day Armie had promised to give him an answer on his proposal at a partnership. And if he's being truly honest, after everything that happened, he's not exactly hopeful. "The proposal."

"Exactly," he nods, blue eyes wandering around the premises. "You think there's somewhere we can talk where there's less noise?"

"The backyard is the most silent place here nowadays, but it isn't exactly what I'd call a good place for a meeting, so maybe..."

"Maybe we could go out for lunch," he adds before Timothée can finish his phrase. "I'm kind of hungry anyway."

"Lunch? You and me?"

"We've done far worse by now, Chalamet," he smirks, which makes Timothée smile. "So? Can we talk over lunch or do you have any other plans?"

"No, I don't have any other plans," he replies, frowning when he realizes just how quickly that came out. "Let me just grab my wallet."

"Take your time, I'm quite a patient guy," he says with a quick shrug and Timothée bites his lip. He's either reading too much into things or there's something in between the lines there, as if Armie was trying to say he could wait as long as it was necessary for him to figure out his shit. And even if Timothée didn't know if that's what he meant exactly, he liked the possibility of it anyway.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Thank you," Timothée says to the waiter with a smile once he sets his glass down on the table. He waits for him to leave, grabs the glass in his hand and takes a few sips of it, his eyes wandering back to Armie, who sits across from him, finger gently tracing the brim of the glass.

They have been sitting there for about ten minutes, but barely any words have been spoken. To think since day one it didn't take much for them to find themselves arguing, to sit in silence felt odd and uncomfortable, as if sitting there were a cheap version of themselves. As Armie moves on the chair, fixing himself up, Timothée bites his lip, casually watching his movements. He sips on his drink, clears his throat and eventually allows his eyes to meet his, in his lips a tender and welcoming smile. 

"Ready to talk?"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to give me an answer," Timothée replies, his mouth dry and his body tense. "So, whenever you are ready. I can take it, just get it over with."

"What is that supposed to mean?," Armie wonders, a frown upon his face as he stares at Timothée until it finally dawns on him what he is talking about. He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans his elbows against the table, a cheeky little grin forming on his lips. "You think I'm turning down the proposal because of what happened between us?"

"Mostly because I treated you badly."

"You ignored me, which wasn't exactly nice, but you didn't treat me badly either."

"I didn't? Because that seems to be the consent between everyone else."

"Well, I'm not everyone else," he smiles, sips on his drink and then sighs. "Like I said, our date was something completely out of the blue, it's understanding that you're trying to wrap your head around everything still."

"It wasn't a date, Hammer."

"It felt like a date to me," he tilts his head to the side, a little smirk forming on his lips. "I mean, there was a fancy meal, nice conversation, kisses and sex. That's pretty much how I define a date, do you do it differently?"

"This date wasn't even supposed to be with you."

"That doesn't change the fact it was a date."

"It wasn't a date," Timothée insists.

"What was it then?"

"A one night stand?"

"Was it? Because the little experience I have with one night stands, there's not as much talking involved, especially not regarding the kind of subjects we discussed. But if you insist that wasn't a date, we can easily change that."

Timothée frowns, his eyes locked on Armie, who now sports his well known condescending smile. And if he's being honest, it doesn't bother him as it did once, it's actually quite amusing and welcoming to see it again.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You say Saturday wasn't a real date because you were not supposed to be there with me, right?," Timothée nods slowly, a curious expression in his eyes. "Then go on a date with me."

"What?"

"Go on a date with me," he repeats, leaning closer to Timothée. "Just you and I, tonight at my place and I'll even do the cooking."

"You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life, Chalamet," he assures him. "So, what do you say?"

Timothée gulps, eyes unable to move away from Armie's, which have a new spark to them. He's being genuine, just like he was on Saturday when he apologized for their banter, or when he listened to what had happened between him and Wes. The look in his eyes now resembles the one he gave him seconds before they kissed for the first time, in the middle of the street as if they were the only two people in the world. 

With his heart beating faster and his hands sweating, Timothée bites his lip, a dozen different thoughts clouding his head as he tries to understand exactly what he wants. But despite how confused he might think he is, the words that roll out of his lips are filled with certainty and excitement.

"I'd like that."

* * *

  
  
  


It's past two when Timothée finally makes it back to the restaurant, his phone in hand as he glances around the place, noticing some of Dean's men are already working on the bar at the main room. He stops and stares for a while, a smile spreading across his lips as he starts to imagine how the whole thing will look like once it's done, the people that will eventually sit there while waiting for their table, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on peanuts and pistachios.

He chuckles to himself, turns on his heels and heads down the hallway, taking a quick look into the bathroom, realizing that a lot has been done while he was out with Armie. He walks to the kitchen, notices it's completely empty and wonders where Dean might be, but figures he might have decided to take a break. He takes his clipboard and folder back from the kitchen, keeping it under his arm as he walks to the backyard, his eyes going wide the moment he reaches the slide door and finds Jared standing there, a small smile on his lips as he chats with Dean.

At first he simply stares at him slightly confused, but then it finally hits him. He had plans with Jared, plans which he was fully aware of until the moment Armie appeared in front of him. Armie, with his plaid shirt and dark jeans, stubble, dark blond hair and stupidly gorgeous face. Seeing him was enough to lead Timothée to forget about everything else around him, including Jared, who nearly begged for a second chance.

It takes a moment for them to notice he is standing there, but once they do, Dean quickly says his goodbye and walks back inside, patting Timothée's shoulder on his way past him. He gives him a gentle smile, but sighs as he turns his eyes back to Jared, who is now closing the gap between them, hands tucked inside his pockets.

"Hey," he nearly mumbles.

"Hi," Timothée replies, licking his dry lips afterwards. "Jared, I'm sorry for bailing on you."

"I guess I deserved that."

"No, it wasn't at all my intention to do this, things just...," he sighs, shaking his head. "Things just took a turn I wasn't really expecting."

"You don't have to sugarcoat me, Timothée. I understand my actions over the weekend hurt you and I can't really blame you for the payback."

"I'm not sugarcoating you, Jared. I was fully aware of our lunch, I wanted to hear everything you had to say, but something happened and I got a bit carried away."

"It's okay," he assures him, a small smile spreading across his lips. "I actually had a nice time talking to Dean, who gave me some really nice tips. He seems like a good guy."

"And a great professional too," Timothée adds, glancing over his shoulder and catching a glimpse of Dean, who is currently talking to a few of his men. He sighs, turns back to Jared and gestures towards the iron table by their left. They have quite a lot of talk about and it's time they get it over with. "Do you want some water? Is pretty much the only thing I can offer you for now."

"No, I'm good," Jared assures him while taking a seat across from him on the table. "So..."

"So," Timothée chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair as Jared sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He's clearly nervous and Timothée can see he's trying to find the right words to start. "It's okay, you can take your time. I've waited until now, I can wait a little bit longer."

"Right," he nods, looking down at his hands for a brief second. He takes in a deep breath, licks his lips and glances back up at Timothée, who patiently waits for his explanation. "I didn't lie to you yesterday, I really got caught up in an emergency and it took us hours to deal with it. I was at my sister's place, we had spent most of the afternoon together, she helped me pick up an outfit and calmed down my nerves over the whole thing. When I was just about to leave, I got a call from the department, we had a mass fire in Santa Monica, I had to join them."

"Okay, I get that part, but I still don't understand why you couldn't simply send me a text and explain what had happened."

"Things got pretty complicated, one of my friends got injured and we had to rush him to the nearest hospital. I knew I had to give you some explanation, but things were so fuzzy and rushed, I was barely able to think straight."

"And Sunday?"

"I just chickened out," he admits, shrugging his shoulders. "I knew you'd be mad at me and rightfully so, which made me postpone the whole thing as much as I could."

"You got me until that very last bit, Jared."

"I know, it sounds stupid and it might be a feeble apology, but it's the true," he sighs, shaking his head. "The worst part of it all is that I really like you and I know I messed up, but I also know that if we try, we can build something nice here."

"Jared, I told you I didn't come here looking for a relationship."

"I wasn't looking for one either, but since I met you, I could tell there has been a connection between us. Don't you feel the same?"

Timothée swallows thickly, his heart beating faster and his hands sweating. He inhales deeply, smacks his lips together and hopes he can make sure this conversation is an honest one, but also one that doesn't leave anyone broken and sad.

"Timothée?"

"I didn't come here looking for a relationship, but I am fully aware that we can't always control the things that happen to us or our feelings. Saturday was quite a changing point for me, Jared, because it opened my eyes to a couple of things I wasn't really seeing and I need to be honest with you about them, you deserve that."

"What are you trying to say?"

* * *

  
  


Timothée kicks the front door closed, a loud sigh escaping him as he leans back against it, his messy curls falling down his forehead. He closes his eyes and for a brief moment he replays in his head everything that happened during the day, from Dean trying to explain to him exactly what sort of repairs they would do on the bathrooms, to the look on Jared's face when he told him what had happened on Saturday after he didn't show up for their date.

At the thought of their date, Timothée suddenly opens his eyes and glances around the living room, his eyes stopping by the large clock by the wall. He curses under his breath, pushes himself away from the door and runs down the hallway to his bedroom. He kicks off his shoes, takes off his clothes and tosses them to the armchair on his way to the bathroom, the warm water cascading down his naked body only seconds later. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, his body slowly relaxing, the knots on his shoulders finally coming undone. He closes his eyes, leans against the tiled wall and finds himself smiling; the simple thought of going on another date with Armie, this one in his own house, causing him to feel butterflies in his stomach. He bites his lip, slightly surprised at how all of a sudden the thought of Armie can cause such an effect on him, when last than a week ago he was nothing but the annoying farmers market guy. 

Then again, maybe Pauline and Seth were right all along and there had always been a spark between them, but they couldn't really see it. Or at least he couldn't.

He sighs, turns off the shower and steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He stops by the mirror, slides his hand across it to clean it from the fog that has surrounded the bathroom and stares at himself for a couple of seconds. He sighs, a part of him already questioning his decision to go on a date with Armie; after all, what if this night ruins everything? He shakes his head, trying his best not to dwell on something like this right now and steps out of the bathroom. He opens his closet, steps inside and huffs out, his eyes wandering through all the clothes he has there, his mind already working non stop to try and decide what he should wear. As he reaches for a pair of striped pants, he hears his phone ringing and turns on his heels, searching for the little gadget all around the room. He finally finds it under his pants on the armchair and nearly screams in victory, sitting on the floor as he hits accept, Pauline and Seth's face pressed together as they both try to fit into the screen.

"Well, don't you two look nice," he mocks. "A good little pair of Siamese twins."

"He's so funny, isn't he?," Seth says while making a face. "Are you on the floor?"

"Yes, I finally reached rock bottom."

"Did you decide to become a comedian or something?," Pauline rolls her eyes, fixes the phone and then cocks an eyebrow. "So, are you gonna tell us exactly how did lunch with Jared go?"

"It didn't go," he shrugs. "I kind of bailed on him."

"What? Why?"

"Armie showed up at the restaurant, he wanted to talk and asked if we could go grab something to eat. I said yes and completely forgot about the fact I had already said yes to Jared, who showed up at the restaurant later on and ended up spending a good hour talking to Dean."

Seth tries, but fails in his attempt to hold back his laughter, his cheeks turning into a deep shade of red.

"So you're telling me the moment you saw Armie you completely forgot about the firefighter?," he smirks. "I mean, I knew you were into the guy, but damn it, I didn't know you were in so deep already."

"Don't overreact, Seth."

"Little brother, you just ditched the guy you were supposed to go on a date with because of Armie. I think it's fair to say whatever you thought you felt for him was wrong and you're actually quite into him."

"I never said I wasn't, I just..."

"Wait what?," Seth interrupts, eyebrows arched and a cheeky grin on his face. "Did you just admit to being into Armie?"

"Well, I have a date with him in about an hour, so I better be."

"You have a what?," they both say in unison, much to Timothée's amusement. He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as Pauline pushes Seth to the side, her face taking over the entire screen. "When were you planning on telling us this?"

"Eventually?," he shrugs, pushing himself up from the floor and walking back to the closet. "We went out for lunch, I thought he was going to scream at me for ignoring him, or even say he declined my proposal for a partnership, but in the end all he wanted was to ask me out on an official first date."

"Don't you mean second?"

"Saturday doesn't count."

Pauline and Seth exchange a look, then look back at Timothée, both with inquisitive expressions. "And why is that?"

"It wasn't our date to begin with, so we can't say it was our first date."

"Seriously, Tim, sometimes you're just too much," Seth groans, shaking his head.

"So many technicalities," Pauline muses, a little grin on her face. "So, what you wearing?"

"I don't know," he sighs. "The date is at his house, so I figured it doesn't have to be anything too fancy, right?"

"The date is at his house? Damn, the guy is definitely going in for the kill."

"It's not like I haven't been there before, Seth."

"You were there for a simple fuck, now it's a whole new thing, my friend."

"Anyway," he sighs. "What should I wear?"

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée steps out of the Uber, a brown paper bag in one hand as he takes a quick look around himself, the nearly empty street reminding him of his own, although the houses in this neighborhood seem to be a lot bigger and fancier. He walks to the front door, a lump forming on his throat with each step he takes, his hands gripping tighter onto the bag and in his stomach, a storm of butterflies seems to have taken place. He rings the doorbell, swallows thickly as he stands there, bouncing from one leg to the other, his heartbeat getting faster with every passing second.

Suddenly he hears movement, footsteps approaching and the sound of music, something mellow and soft, which he definitely didn't expect to be Armie's thing. Instinctively, as the door opens he takes a step back and raises his gaze, his lips turning into a smile as he sees Armie standing there, a cloth thrown over his shoulder and an apron tied around his waist. He bites his lip as he takes in the sight, noticing while his clothes are clearly clean, he hasn't diverted much from the look he sported earlier. It was obvious clothes were not exactly something Armie took much time thinking of.

But surprisingly enough, Timothée liked that. Maybe because it defied most stereotypes from Los Angeles, or maybe because it made him much more simple and at reach. And when a person happens to look like a freaking Greek statue that came to life, which was definitely Armie's case, it felt nice knowing there was something about them that was just plain simple.

"I brought wine," he eventually blurts out, holding the paper bag up and earning a little chuckle from Armie. "I hope it goes well with whatever you have planned."

"I'm sure it does, but if it doesn't, who cares?," he winks, opens the door wider and gestures for Timothée to come in, his eyes following him the entire time. "For a moment I thought you had given up."

"My Uber took longer than anticipated."

"Right," Armie nods, hands sliding to his pockets. "Well, welcome to my home. I know you've been here before, but I doubt you had time to look at much considering what we were doing when we arrived and how you ran away in the morning."

"I didn't run away," he protests, trying to hold back a chuckle when Armie shoots him a look. "I didn't, I simply...well, I just walked very fast."

Armie blurts out laughing, his cheek flushed and wrinkles forming on the corner of his eyes. It's honestly a sight to behold and Timothée feels almost as if the whole world around him has been lightened up. Armie's smile and laughter are contagious, and Timothée is certain he could stand there and stare at him for hours on end.

"Okay, so here's the deal," he claps his hands together. "I'm still working on dinner, so why don't you join me in the kitchen?"

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be intimidated by me watching you."

"You can watch me anytime," he smirks, turns on his heels and gestures for Timothée to follow him. "Also, I hope you don't mind, but I kept the menu for the night pretty basic."

"I'm okay with the basics."

"Are you?," he asks, glancing over his shoulder as they walk into the kitchen.

"Just because I'm a chef, doesn't mean I can't appreciate simple but good food, Hammer."

"You're not just a chef, you're a New York chef."

"What is that supposed to mean?," he chuckles, leaning against the wall as he watches Armie get behind the counter, immediately reaching for a bowl. He allows his eyes to wander around the kitchen, notices the amount of bowls and knives Armie has, the rack with over a dozen different seasonings and the large fridge. It doesn't seem that different from his own kitchen and once again Timothée is hit with the fact that they might not be as different as he first thought. He bites his lip, trying his very best to suppress the goofy smile that so desperately wants to take over his face and turns back to Armie, frowning as he notices the amount of things that are spread around the counter. "What exactly is that you're cooking, because from here it doesn't look basic at all."

"Cheddar and mushroom quiche, with roasted asparagus and bacon. And for dessert, a classic chocolate mousse."

"Huh, you have a very weird definition of what basic means, Hammer."

"Maybe," he smirks, shrugging his shoulders.

"Anyway, can I help with anything? It feels kind of weird to just stand here and do nothing."

"Well, I was thinking of adding something a bit more interesting to the chocolate mousse," he says while glancing up from the bacon he is chopping. "You got any ideas?"

"You have any nuts?," he wonders.

"Peanut and pistachios."

"Perfect, I can work with that."

"Okay, the mousse is on the fridge, the peanuts and pistachios on those jars by the window's shelf."

Timothée nods, takes a couple of steps towards the fridge, but then stops, glancing back at Armie while pointing at it.

"Can I?"

"My kitchen is now your kitchen."

"Don't say that, Hammer, you're walking into a dangerous territory."

"I'm known to like some danger," he winks and Timothée can't help but smile. "Seriously, make yourself at home."

Timothée nods, turns back to the fridge and takes the two glasses with the mousse. He sets them down on the counter, swirls around and rushes across the other side of the kitchen, taking the peanut and pistachios jar from the shelf. He opens it, inhales deeply and smiles at the smell, taking a few handfuls and laying it down on the counter. He reaches for a knife, starts chopping the nuts and glances up at Armie, who's standing across from him. He smiles, still a bit surprised to find them sharing a moment like this, but at the same time extremely thrilled to see where it takes them.

"Wine?," Armie eventually asks, sliding a glass towards him.

"Thank you."

* * *

  
  


As Timothée wanders around the house, his curious eyes taking in every little detail that surrounds him, the smell that comes from the kitchen intensifies and spreads it all across the house, bringing a smile to his face. He has noticed Armie isn't exactly fond of much decoration, his house is clean and mostly minimalist, although the bookshelf and some of the frames he has up on the walls bring some much appreciated life to the place.

He bites his lip as he enters the dining room, his eyes spotting an old china cabinet, where a couple of plates and glasses are kept. He walks over to it, his fingers tracing the wood while he glances inside, noticing some of the china in there is quite old, the type of thing you'd find at your grandmother's house. He smiles, opens the cabinet and takes two of the more modern plates out, chooses two of the wine glasses and brings it with him to the table, gently setting it down. 

In a matter of seconds, Timothée is already moving around the dining room as if it was his own, opening cupboards and taking silverware and napkins with him to the table. He sets everything up, takes a step back to make sure the table looks nice and cozy, nothing too extreme or exaggerated; he doesn't want to make this seem like one of those romantic settings he sees in movies and whatnot, the pressure would be just too much. 

"Okay, the quiche is done and we...," Armie stops by the entrance to the dining room, blue eyes wide as he stares at the table. "Wow, I doubt my dinning table has ever looked this good."

"You have it all right here, Hammer, you just have to actually use it."

"I was saving for important guests, you know?"

"Then I did the right thing by taking them all out."

"Cocky, huh?"

"No, just your ordinary New Yorker chef," he shrugs, a cheeky grin on his face. "So, dinner is ready?"

"Yes, you ready?"

"I've tasted your chicken and you're actually quite good in the kitchen it seems."

"Another compliment," Armie holds onto his heart, feigning desperation as he slowly drags himself over to Timothée, who watches him with a smirk. "Are you sure you're alright? Should I call an ambulance or maybe check your vital signs?"

"Fuck off."

"Actually..."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Timothée says, holding a finger up at him. "Or I will kick your ass."

"That's something I'd like to see you try."

"Just because I'm shorter than you, doesn't mean I'm not strong, Hammer."

"I could manhandle you without even sweating, Chalamet."

Timothée smacks his lips together, trying his very best not to say anything he might regret later on. He stares at Armie, a million different thoughts going through his head as he processes the words he just said, the casualty in his voice making it all so much more real and interesting. In a span of only four days, their relationship had changed into something completely different, where they were much more comfortable around one another and felt they could talk about anything.

"So, are we eating or what?"

"Oh, so you're just gonna pretend you didn't spend a whole minute staring at me, processing what I just said and trying to make sense of all the innuendos in it?"

"Shut up," Timothée says slightly exasperated, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. "Seriously, shut up and let's eat, you don't know how cranky I can get when I'm hungry."

"I've seen you get cranky, Chalamet."

"Oh, when you tried to rob me back at the farmers market?," he teases Armie, walking past him and over to the kitchen. "Trust me, I wasn't at my crankiest there, my friend."

"Oh man, I'm in for a treat, ain't I?," he asks, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a little grin on his face. "Maybe I should just back out now and save myself."

"If that's what you want."

"No, that's definitely not what I want."

  
  


* * *

  
  


"This doesn't feel right," Armie's voice echoes through the kitchen, which causes Timothée to stop the dishes and glance over his shoulder at him, who is leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a grin on his face. "This is a date, you shouldn't be washing the dishes."

"So what? We move along to wine in front of the fireplace and leave the sink filled up with dirty dishes?"

"Fireplace? I got no fireplace."

"You don't?"

"Do you?," he asks, cocking an eyebrow as Timothée bites his lip, a clear frown upon his face. "Wow, you've been living here for two months and you can't even tell, out of the blue, if your house has a fireplace or not."

"To be fair, I haven't been spending much time at home."

"You did buy the house though, right? I take you would be a little bit interested in the place you're living?"

"Are you my real estate agent now?," he rolls his eyes, turning back to the sink to rinse the last of the plates, which he places on the drying rack. He reaches for a cloth, which he dries his hand with and turns on his heels, leaning against the counter with a little smile. "So, what now?"

"Well, I have no fireplace, but I do have a backyard," he shrugs, walking over to the nearest shelf to take two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. "What do you say we sit down at the couch on the patio and just chat a little bit more?"

"Aren't you tired of hearing my rambling ass by now?" 

"I can do the talking," he shrugs. "Unless you really need that fireplace to make this whole situation work."

"I can deal with the backyard, the Scotch though, that's not really my thing."

"Does Tequila sound better?"

"Definitely," he smiles, throwing the cloth on the counter as he follows Armie out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He stops by the backyard glass door, noticing the lights, table and small couch under the covered area, while on the rest of the backyard there's a wooden bench surrounding a tree and the grass is perfectly mowed. "Wow."

"You like it?," he asks while kicking his flip flops to the side. He takes a seat on the small couch, his legs up as he opens the bottle of Tequila and pours some into the glasses. "The house was always perfect, but this backyard was pretty much abandoned when I moved in. I saw the potential it had, so I worked on that bench, because I knew the shade from the tree would be perfect in the summer, then I made sure to cover this bit, add the iron table and the couch, create a little more intimate and cozy place for when my friends are around."

"Wait, you made that bench yourself?," he asks, highly amused, as he sits down beside Armie on the couch, taking the glass he offers him. "Thank you."

"Yes. While my mom made sure I knew everything about cooking, my dad usually asked for help around the farm and with carpentry, which was something he liked to do in his spare time. I can't do anything too sophisticated, obviously, but I can do some things."

"It looks very sophisticated to me," Timothée shrugs before taking a sip of his tequila, which causes him to grunt. "Fuck, this is strong."

"Straight from Mexico."

"Well, we clearly didn't have any of those in New York," he chuckles, while leaning back against the couch, his eyes up to the sky as he notices the first few raindrops fall. He smiles, the smell of wet plants immediately raising and filling his nostrils; it reminds him of the summers he would spend with his father's side of the family in the french countryside, his hair bouncing around as he ran after his cousins. "You got yourself quite a pretty house, Hammer."

"Well, thank you."

"I didn't think it was possible, but it turns out you actually got good taste," he smirks. 

"Funny, you're so damn funny," Armie rolls his eyes, takes a couple of sips of his tequila and then leans back against the couch, a loud sigh escaping him. "Did you realize that amid everything that happened today, we didn't actually get to talk about your proposal?"

"Oh, my God."

"You completely forgot about it, didn't you?"

"I kind of did."

"That's nice."

"Is it?"

"It means when you're with me you're not always constantly thinking about work," he shrugs. "That sounds quite nice to me."

"Don't get too cocky."

"Just the right amount," he mocks, winking at Timothée when he turns to face him. "So, you want to talk about it now?"

"That depends on whether or not I'll be pleased with your answer."

"Then maybe we should address this tomorrow, at commercial hours, you know?," he teases and Timothée laughs, nudging him. "Yes, I accept your proposal, I think we can both gain from working together."

"Really?"

"Really," he smiles, turning his body so he can look Timothée in the eye. He swallows, licks his lips and slowly moves closer to him, his finger gently tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "I think your idea for the restaurant is quite interesting and the farm has what it takes to help you make that idea come true. Not to mention, we can sit down some day and discuss things properly, see if we can offer you more than what you have initially thought and..."

Timothée stops him by pressing their lips together, his hand resting on Armie's chest, his heart beating incredibly fast. He pulls away slowly, licking his lips as he opens his eyes to find Armie's, which have a glimpse of confusion, even if it's easy to tell by the smile on his face that he has enjoyed it as much as he did.

"Was I talking too much for your liking, Chalamet?"

"No," he shakes his head, hand tracing the buttons on Armie's plaid flannel. "I just really wanted to kiss you."

"Then please, don't control your urges any longer."

Timothée smiles, sliding a hand down Armie's neck and pulling him closer, their lips pressed together in what starts out as a gentle and tamed kiss, but soon escalates into a much more heated and sexy one. As they sit there, completely immersed in the moment, their hands timidly reaching for each other's body, the rain intensifies, the sound echoing in the night, which remains their only witness.


	14. I Want You To Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't fight fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I wanted to post this earlier, but I've been sick the whole week and could barely concentrate on anything, but I'm starting to feel better, so hopefully we'll get back to our daily programming soon 😉

Thunder and lightning fills up the sky as the rain intensifies, leaving the streets of Los Angeles empty and eerily quiet. Inside Armie's house, Timothée lies on the living room couch, his leg hooked against his hip, while his hands slide down his muscular back and his lips move along with his in a heated and passionate kiss. He moans softly, tilts his head back when Armie decides to trace his lips down his jaw and neck, kissing, biting and sucking on the tender skin.

With his eyes closed, Timothée marvels at the feeling, Armie's hard body pressed against his, his large hands roaming through every little bit of skin he can find. It's impressive how Armie always seems to find all the right spots, causing his body to shudder from head to toe and goosebumps to spread all over his skin. His heart is pounding inside his chest, the thrill and excitement he feels by being with Armie more than what he has ever felt before with any of the guys he's been with prior, including Wes.

With him, Timothée felt like he was always trying to please him, but never got nothing in return. But with Armie things were completely different, there was something about his touch, the way his lips moved against his and the way he looked at him that sparked something completely new inside of him. He wasn't sure of what it was yet, but he knew he wanted enough time with Armie to understand what it all meant. And even if in the end things didn't go the way he expected -although at this point, Timothée isn't even sure of what he truly expects-, he would be happy to know he had the chance to get to know the man behind the flannel shirts and easy smile.

"Umm," he moans while reluctantly pulling away, his hands now cradling Armie's face, his thumbs gently caressing his skin and feeling the sweet tickling of his stubble against his sensitive skin. "I have to go."

"No, you don't," Armie whispers, his hands holding tight onto Timothée's waist as he nestles himself in between his legs and kisses his neck a couple of times.

"Armie," Timothée bites his lip, trying but failing to hold back a moan, his cheeks a bright shade of pink as Armie leans on his elbows and stares down at him, a cheeky grin on his face. "I gotta wake up early tomorrow to go to the restaurant."

"That's not a good enough excuse for you to leave."

"It's not an excuse," he slides his fingers through Armie's hair, licks his lips as he feels him press his body even harder against his, allowing him to feel every little bit of him. "I really have to get up early and I don't think I'll have the willpower to leave if I stay here any longer."

"You don't have to leave at all."

"I do, actually."

"Listen to me," Armie smiles, pushing a few stray curls behind, his eyes transfixed on Timothée's. "I have to go to the farmers market tomorrow, which means I'll have to wake up early too. You stay here, we finish what we started and tomorrow I'll be your own personal alarm clock."

"My own personal alarm clock?," Timothée chuckles, his finger gently tracing Armie's lips. "That does sound tempting."

"Wait until I show you the selection of songs you can choose from to be awaken by."

"Oh, you're one of those alarm clocks?," Timothée wrinkles his nose, tugging gently on his hair. "Doesn't sound that tempting anymore."

"There certainly are other ways I can use to wake you up."

"Would you tell me which ways? You know, so I can properly think of an answer."

"I can do a lot more than talk," he winks, plants a quick kiss on his lips and then slowly slides down the sofa, his hands finding the zipper on Timothée's pants, which are down to his ankles in record speed.

"This is so not fair," Timothée whispers, his voice trembling as he feels Armie's hot breath against his cock, which is already painfully hard. He grips onto the couch cushions, his breathing labored as Armie pulls down his boxers, his hand immediately wrapped around his cock, stroking ever so slowly. "Fuck, that feels good."

"Does that mean you're staying?"

"You don't fight fair, Hammer," he manages to say before Armie swirls his tongue across the head of his cock, his whole body shuddering in response. He closes his eyes, back arched and lips parted as moan after moan escapes him, his fingers sliding onto Armie's hair, which he grips on it.

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée moves around the bed, spreading his legs wide before he opens his eyes, his curls clouding his vision a little, but not keeping him from seeing the beautiful sunlight that comes in through the large window in the bedroom. He sighs, pushes his hair back and rolls over on the bed, stretching out his arms and legs as he stares at the ceiling.

Suddenly the smell of coffee fills up the air and Timothée smiles, pushing himself to a sitting position. He runs his eyes through the bedroom, jumps out of the bed and fishes for the first item of clothing he can get, which just happens to be Armie's plaid flannel. He puts it on, buttoning half of it as he wanders around the bedroom, paying close attention to everything he didn't have time to see the first time around. 

He spots a couple of books on the desk and picks it up, his hand sliding across the cover before he flips through a couple of pages. He then moves his attention to one of the shelves, a grin spreading across his lips as sees the family photos, awards and random memorabilia. He takes a vintage camera from it, turning it around in his hand as he curiously inspects it. 

When his stomach starts rumbling though, Timothée places the camera back on the shelf and exits the bedroom, walking down the hallway barefoot. He leans against the archway to the kitchen, arms crossed as he watches Armie cook something by the stove. He bites his lip, slightly inebriated with feelings as he recalls their night together and thinks of the moment he is living right now. Until three days ago, Armie was the annoying guy at the farmers market, now Timothée's standing in his kitchen, wearing only his shirt while he watches him cook. How did things escalate this quickly he isn't really sure of, but he's happy they did anyway.

"Oh, hey there," Armie says with a smile once he realizes he's standing there. "I know I promised to be your personal alarm clock, which I was going to be, I was just waiting for breakfast to be done."

"The smell of your coffee woke me up, so in a way, you did keep your end of the bargain."

"That's good to know."

"What you're doing?," he asks, pushing himself off of the wall and walking further into the kitchen. He grabs himself a mug by the shelf, hops on the counter and reaches for the coffee pot, pouring himself a generous dose. "It smells delicious."

"Thanks," Armie smiles, turning back to the stove, which he turns it off. He reaches for a place, dumping two grilled sandwiches on it before he turns back to the counter and takes a seat. "It's my own, poor version of Croque-Monsieur."

"That sounds...," Timothée chuckles, but takes one of the sandwiches anyway, taking a generous bite of it. He licks his lips, his eyes growing wide as he savors the sandwich. "Oh, my God. This is actually incredible."

"You still doubt my abilities in the kitchen, don't you?"

"Not anymore. From your chicken, to last night's dinner and this sandwich, you've proven me you can compete with great cooks."

"Yourself included?"

"Myself included."

"Man, I'm not used to receiving this many compliments from you. It's kind of scary, you know?"

"You want me to insult you?," Timothée chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. "I mean, I've heard of weirder kinks."

"Oh, shut up," Armie rolls his eyes, pours himself some coffee and then glances back at Timothée, a smile spreading across his lips as he watches him devour his sandwich. "Wait, are you wearing my shirt?"

"Yeah, it was kind of the first thing I saw in the bedroom," he shrugs, before cleaning the corner of his lips. "Is that okay?"

"After what we've done, you wearing my shirt is really the least of my worries."

"And what are you worries, Hammer?"

"How I'm gonna manage to take the image of you moaning my name out of my mind so I can focus on work. Or the way you looked down at me while you were riding me, the little smirk on your face when you knew you had..."

"Okay, I get the picture."

Armie smirks, leaning closer to Timothée, his thumb reaching out to clean something on the corner of his mouth.

"What? You're not used to your lovers talking about the things you do in bed?"

"Well, I spent four years of my life in a relationship where I was gaslighted and made to think my ex was the epitome of the perfect man, so not really."

"Ugh, I hate what that man did to you."

"Don't waste your time or breath getting angry at him," Timothée shrugs. "He doesn't deserve it."

"You were really brave leaving the relationship, looking for something that was yours and turning your life around for the better."

"I'm still in the process of turning my life around, but I suppose what I've managed to achieve already is enough of a reward after everything I went through."

Armie smiles, reaches out for Timothée's hand and gently strokes it. He plants a kiss on his palm, smirking as Timothée shakes his head, his eyes down to his plate to hide the obvious blush that takes over his cheeks.

"So, you want me to drive you home?"

"You don't have to worry, I can get myself an Uber."

"I'm offering you a ride and you rather take an Uber? And here I was, thinking our night had been a successful one."

"Stop being so melodramatic, Hammer," he jokingly rolls his eyes, pushing Armie's hand away as he chuckles. "You said you have to go to the farmers market, I don't want you to be late because of me."

"Your house is on the way there anyway," he shrugs. "I just need to take a quick shower."

"Okay, if you insist."

Armie nods, finishes his sandwich and hops off of the counter, drinking the remains of his coffee before taking his mug and plate to the sink. He cleans his hand, walks around the counter and then stops by Timothée's side, a hand on the counter and another on the stool, trapping Timothée in between his arms.

"Would you like joining me in the shower? Water pressure is quite fabulous."

"If I get in that shower, there's no way either one of us makes it to work on time, so I'll have to reschedule that."

"Okay, that works for me," Armie nods, a cheeky grin on his face. "A reschedule means you plan on stopping by again."

"Don't get too cocky, I can easily change my mind."

"I have a feeling you won't," he winks, steals a kiss from Timothée and rushes out of the kitchen, only to come back seconds later, his shirt already off. "Make yourself at home and if I'm not mistaken, your clothes are on the living room floor."

"Thank you," Timothée says between chuckles, turning around on the stool to face Armie, who smiles at him. "Chop chop, we got places to go."

"Fine, fine, I'll be right back."

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée stares out of the window, watching as houses pass them by, the Sun high up in the sky and the temperature increasing more with each second. He has a small smile upon his lips, fond memories of the night they spent together as he catches his house in the distance. He sighs, bites his lip as he turns to face Armie, who glances at him with a little cheeky grin.

They haven't talked much ever since they got in the car, but not because things were awkward or anything, they simply could still find comfort in the silence, the moments they shared ever since Timothée got to Armie's house enough to create a bond between them that transcended words. As Armie parks the car outside his house, Timothée notices a weird expression take over his face, his blue eyes slightly confused. He glances back at the house, chuckles as he spots the swing, which is now perfectly adorning his porch and then turns back to Armie, smirking.

"A swing is not exactly the most Californian thing you'll see on a front porch, right?"

"No, it's not," he admits. "And something tells me that's exactly why you bought it."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?," Timothée simply shrugs as Armie smiles, shaking his head. He sighs, runs the tip of his tongue across his lips, his eyes down to his hands for a moment before he glances back at Timothée, who can't help but feel like his stare is nearly baring his soul. "I really enjoyed the time we spent together last night...and this morning, of course."

"I did too," he quickly replies, a smile spreading across his lips and his cheeks slightly flushed. "I'm quite glad I agree to it."

"Does that mean you're willing to do it again?"

"Most definitely," he bites his lip, almost unable to contain the excitement that is swiftly building up inside of him. "I think we could have a lot of fun."

"If it's anything similar to last night, it's gonna be amazing."

"I actually should thank you for the night," Timothée says, which makes Armie roll his eyes and shake his head. "No, I mean it. I had a lot of fun with you and I really enjoyed the opportunity to get to know you a little bit more."

"Am I suddenly the Armie everyone told you about, but you simply couldn't see?"

"Maybe," he teases him, dragging out the  _ a _ , a cheeky grin upon his face.

"Maybe?"" Armie scoffs, shaking his head. "You're a tough one to please, Chalamet."

"Really? That's funny, because yesterday you seemed to be quite good at it."

Armie smirks, a faint blush on his cheeks as he lets Timothée's words sink in. He inhales deeply, blue eyes locked on Timothée's green ones as he leans closer, allowing his fingers to slide down his curls before he presses their lips together in a sweet kiss.

Timothée smiles, reaching out to lay a hand flat on Armie's chest as he deepens the kiss, but then he moves it upwards, until he eventually cradles his face, his thumb gently caressing his stubbled jaw.

As they pull away, Timothée licks his lip, his eyes finding Armie's again. There is so much he wishes he could tell him, but his emotions and thoughts are all over the place at the moment and he resorts to silence and a smile.

"I should go," he says after a minute. "I still have to shower."

"I offered you my shower."

"And if I had said yes, we'd probably still be there."

"Would that be so bad?"

"I didn't say that," he winks. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah."

"Good bye," he opens the door and hops off, waving at Armie before he makes his way across the front yard and inside the house, leaning against the door as he closes it. He sighs, a large smile on his lips, which nearly causes his cheeks to hurt. Agreeing to go on a date with Armie turned out to be one of the best things he did ever since he stepped into Los Angeles.

* * *

  
  
  


With his clipboard in hand, Timothée swiftly walks down the stairs, his eyes roaming across the room, his curls falling down his forehead. He spots a woman standing by the soon to be bar, raises an eyebrow in confusion, but by the time he reaches the last step, he has already recognized the woman to be Gen, who quietly inspects the place.

As she hears him approaching, she turns around, her hair tied in a perfect ponytail and on her lips, the usual red lipstick. She smiles at him and Timothée mirrors her action, although inside he's slightly scared her impromptu visit has something to do with what happened between him and her brother. Or better yet, what didn't happen between them.

"Hey, stranger," he says, pulling her to a quick hug. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"What? You dump my brother and think I'm simply gonna ignore that?," as Timothée's eyes go wide, his jaw clenched in tension, Gen bursts out laughing, shaking her head. "I'm only kidding, dude. I know better than to get involved in my brother's love life, so you don't have to worry about me, because as long as neither of you hurt the other in any shape or form, then it doesn't really matter to me."

"I would never hurt him, Gen. I actually think Jared is an incredible guy and while I thought giving us a try would be a good idea, in the end I realized it just wasn't right."

"I understand that," she nods, squeezing his shoulder. "Also, he told me what happened on your first date and I'm sorry for that."

"No need for that."

"No seriously, I've been stood up before and I know how much it sucks, so I understand if you were mad at him at some point. The idiot probably deserved."

"It's all in the past, I'm not mad at him or anything, I just want him to be happy."

"You're an incredible guy, Tim," she smiles, winking at him before she gives it a little spin around. "Anyway, I'm absolutely in awe with what you're doing with this place. It's already looking incredible and there's not even any decor yet, I can't wait to see how it will look once it's all done."

"Neither can I," he smiles, placing his clipboard down on the counter. "It's still kind of surreal to think in a matter of a month or so, my restaurant will be a reality and no longer just a dream of mine."

"I'm so happy to see you accomplish this. The moment you told me your story and what you were looking for here in Los Angeles, how you wanted to find the perfect spot for your restaurant, I knew you were someone who deserved to have his dreams come true, which is why I worked really hard to get this place."

"And I thank you for that," he smiles. "Can I get you some water? So far that's all I can offer you, but I promise it's the best one in California."

"No, I'm good," she assures him. "I actually have a client waiting for me. I knew I'd drive past you on my way over, so I decided to stop by and see how you're doing."

"Well, you're welcomed to come back anytime you want."

"Oh, I most certainly will. I want to see all the amazing things you are doing with this place."

"And I'll be happy to show you around," he winks, gives her yet another hug and then watches as she leaves, a sigh of relief escaping him. While he knew that cutting any romantic ties he could have with Jared was the right thing to do, he feared Gen might take her brother's side and avoid him, which was something he didn't want it to happen. He really liked Gen and was glad he had her around, the last thing he wanted was to lose her friendship. 

He bites his lip, reaches back for his clipboard and scans the papers clipped there, a frown forming on his face as he tries to figure out where to start. He's interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing and quickly reaches back into his pocket to pick it up, smiling as he sees the name on the screen.

"Hey, I was thinking of you just now..."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They are sitting right under the large window of the restaurant, the bright sunlight coming in and bringing with it the warmth of the day. There are two wine glasses on the table, their phones tossed to the side as Timothée fumbles his fork around the plate of spaghetti with spinach and Lauren gently bites on yet another gnocchi. 

"I'm glad you accepted to join me for lunch," she says after taking a sip of her wine. "I had just finished a new version of the script I'm currently working on and really needed some kind of distraction."

"It's still a bit surreal to think I have a script writer as a friend, but I guess that's just how Los Angeles life works, right?"

"I'm sure you'll find a lot more friends and acquaintances that have absolutely nothing to do with the glamorous life of Hollywood," she scoffs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Although, I have to admit, life ain't as glamorous and great as the media makes it out to be. I've seen some pretty shitty stuff going around me, people doing everything, and I mean every despicable thing possible, to get a job."

"My last boyfriend owned a restaurant in New York and the competition was ruthless there, I can only imagine how it is in a business where image is everything."

"I didn't know your ex was also a chef."

Timothée shrugs, leaning back against his chair, carefully swirling the wine glass in his hand. "I don't talk much about him, actually."

"Things didn't end well?"

"No, they didn't."

Lauren remains silent for a second, her eyes locked on Timothée, but her stare is not one of curiosity or judgment, is one of understanding. 

"So, I actually called you here because I wanted to propose something to you."

Timothée arches his eyebrow, intrigued by her choice of words, but also quite pleased that she didn't push on the subject of his last relationship. Despite how easy it was to confide in Armie about what happened, he still doesn't feel comfortable sharing it with other people.

"Are you asking me to marry you, Lauren? Because while I'd be more than happy to say yes, I don't think Greg would be very pleased with this whole thing."

"Look at you trying to be a comedian," she chuckles, shaking her head. "See, Greg and I have a house in Trinity and we're planning to spend the weekend there. I was wondering if you'd like to join us, get away from the city for a while, forget about work for a day or two and enjoy a great weekend by the lake."

"An entire weekend by the lake?," he muses and Lauren nods her head enthusiastic. "That does sound quite tempting."

"We have a little cottage there, it's really cute and cozy, perfect for when you're trying to forget about the day to day life and just relax. Our idea is to leave on Friday around five and come back on Sunday night. I think you could benefit from it, not to mention, we'd love to have your company there."

"Are you sure? Maybe you and Greg would feel more comfortable on your own, without the need to show me around and all that?"

"About that," she bites her lip, a little smile creeping. "You wouldn't be our only guest."

"Oh, then who else would be there?"

"Armie and Alice," she says and Timothée immediately bites his lip, the thought of being locked in a little cottage in the lake with Armie for the whole weekend giving him so many ideas, he nearly feels his cheek blushing. "And I know you and Armie don't have the best of relationships, but I don't think it would be much of a problem. Besides, if things go my way, he won't even pay much attention to you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, he will hate me when he finds out about this, but I'm actually trying to set him with this friend of mine," she suddenly says and Timothée nearly chokes on his drink. "I'm hoping this weekend can bring them together...or at least closer. He's been single for nearly a year now and I'm starting to worry a little that he might be a bit lonely."

"Oh."

"And after we met, I thought that maybe you two could hit it off, but it seems like I was seeing way too much into things, so maybe him and Alice could have some fun together. She's really nice, intelligent and fun, I think she could be a good person for Armie."

"That's...," Timothée bites his lip, trying his best to find words that won't give away anything. "That's very nice of you."

"He probably won't think the same thing though," she chuckles, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, if you want you can even bring your boyfriend along, there's room for everybody."

"My boyfriend?"

"You know, the firefighter."

"Oh," Timothée scoffs, shaking his head. "That didn't really work."

"What? I thought your date had gone well?"

"I lied," he admits, a little pout as he leans on the table. "He left me there waiting for him and never showed up, but I found a way to make the night memorable either way."

"But why did you lie?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, trying his best not to let anything out. While he adores Lauren and considers her a good friend, he doesn't know exactly what this thing with Armie is and therefore he wants to keep things in between them for as long as possible. "But it doesn't really matter. I talked to him afterwards, we even set up a new date, but I realized that it wouldn't work anyway."

"Another reason for you to join us this weekend and have some fun," she smiles, reaching for his hand. "Ella would love to have you there."

"You're paying dirty now, woman."

"C'mon, say you'll go with us."

Timothée sighs, bites his lip and frowns, debating within himself whether or not this is a good idea. He has an outstanding amount of work to do, but he also knows he needs a moment to relax or else he'll get so stressed nothing will be done. As Lauren keeps staring at him, a warm and welcoming smile on her lips, Timothée chuckles and nods his head.

"Fine, I'll join you guys."

"Oh, this is gonna be such a fun weekend."

Timothée scoffs, while nodding his head, in his mind only one thought. Him, Armie and a random woman Lauren is trying to set Armie up with locked in a cottage for the entire weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

  
  


It's nearly seven when Timothée makes it back home, closing the door behind him before he tosses his things to the living room couch and rushes to his bedroom, taking a quick look at his closet in search of something comfortable and clean for him to wear. He selects a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt, throws them into the bed and then grabs his towel, walking to the bathroom, where he quickly takes off his clothes and places them in the laundry bin before getting into the shower, the warm water cascading down his naked body and making him smile.

He can feel his muscles relaxing, the weight of another day of hard work being washed away, even if he knows the moment he is out of that bathroom there are a few dozen things he needs to work on, specially if he wants to join Greg and Lauren by the lake on the weekend. He bites his lip at the thought, wondering exactly how the weekend is gonna go, how he'll be able to handle an entire weekend locked in a cottage with Armie and the woman Lauren is trying to set him up with. Although, if he's being honest, the whole situation might turn out to be quite interesting and fun. 

He turns off the shower, reaches for his towel and dries himself quickly before tying it around his waist. He walks back to the bedroom, finishes getting dry and puts on his clean clothes, focusing on the wet curls that fall down his forehead. He glances at himself in the mirror, notices a hickey on his neck and bites his lip, slightly surprised he didn't notice this before. Did anyone at the construction notice? Did Lauren catch a glimpse of it by any chance? And yes, he knows he doesn't own anyone's explanations, but he still feels slightly embarrassed to parade around town with a hickey that he doesn't even know it exists.

He shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair and hangs the towel back in place before heading off of the bedroom and down the hallway straight to the kitchen. He pours himself some water, opens the fridge and hunches over, eyes wandering all over it as he tries to decide what he is having for dinner. He bites his lip, hears the doorbell and looks over his shoulder, slightly confused.

As it goes off again, Timothée makes his way out of the kitchen and over to the front door, a smile spreading across his lips as he sees Armie standing there. He eyes him up and down, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans and a wide smile displayed on his face, his stubble slowly turning into a full beard and on his eyes a gleam that Timothée isn't very used to seeing. There's just something about Armie that seems to ooze charisma and he wonders how on earth it took him so long to see it.

"You can kick me out if you want, but I brought burgers and milkshake," he says after a moment, holding the paper bag up.

"Why would I kick you out?"

"I never know what to expect from you, Chalamet," he smirks, shrugging his shoulders. "And considering I just stopped by your house unannounced, I wouldn't be surprised if you stomped into my foot and then screamed at me to leave."

"I never screamed at you, Hammer," he chuckles, tilting his head to the side. "Might have screamed because of you once or twice, but we don't need to talk about this."

"What if I want to talk about it?," he cocks an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his face, which makes Timothée chuckle. "No?"

"Just come in already," he rolls his eyes, reaching out for Armie's hand and pulling him inside. "What kind of burgers are those anyway?"

"Simply the best burgers you'll eat in this town," Armie explains, following Timothée to the kitchen, where he sets the paper bags down on the counter. "It's from this little restaurant near my place, they have a very wide menu and their fries are insanely good."

"Should I trust you though?," he takes one of the milkshakes, stuffs a straw on it and takes a few sips of it, before reaching for the bag to take his burgers and fries from it. "I mean, you're the guy who left a hickey on my neck and didn't even mention it."

"What are you talking about?," Armie asks, a frown forming on his face as if he is confused, but the smile that slowly forms on the corner of his lips is nearly impossible to miss and leaves no doubt he is beyond amused by the situation. "Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Idiot."

"You seemed to like this idiot very much last night," he shrugs. "But if you want, I can go back home and leave you alone for the night."

"Are you always this dramatic? Because if so, I'm gonna need to prepare for what I'm getting myself into."

"Does this mean I'm not leaving?"

"Cut the crap, Hammer," he says while rolling his eyes, but smiles once Armie bursts out laughing. "So, we're eating these burgers or what?"

"Want to watch a movie?"

"That sounds nice," he nods, places the burger and fries on a plate and hands one to Armie before he sets off to the living room, sitting down on the floor between the coffee table and the couch. He glances to his side, a little smile on the corner of his lips as Armie sits down by his side, already reaching for the remote control and turning on the television.

* * *

  
  
  


The television has been forgotten, the burger wrappers are now all scattered through the coffee table and on the floor, their shoes are tossed to the side. The coffee table has been pushed closer to the wall, leaving a bigger gap in front of the couch, where they now lie, Timothée on top of Armie, his hands sliding inside his shirt, feeling the hardness and warmth of his body. He moans softly, his legs tangled with Armie's, his curls often getting stuck in between them, which will earn a few giggles here and there.

He feels a shiver run down his spine as Armie tightens his grip on his hips, pulling his body closer. He drags his nails down his chest, his body heating up as Armie bites softly on his bottom lip and pulls on it, which causes him to moan a little louder than usual. He hears the soft chuckle that escapes Armie, opens his eyes and is met with his blue eyes, which are a little darker than usual, a mix of lust and amusement in them. 

As Armie's fingers slide down his curls, tugging on them gently, Timothée tilts his head back. With his neck exposed, Armie almost immediately latches his lips against the sensitive skin, biting, sucking and licking on it. Timothée digs his nails on Armie's skin, an exhilarating feeling taking him over when he feels his cock pressed against his thigh, the hardness of it causing a few dozen dirty thoughts to take him over. Luckily for him, they have all night for him to make all those thoughts come true.

When Armie rolls them over on the floor, Timothée winces, cursing under his breath as something pokes him in the back and causes him to shift position almost immediately. They both look at one another, then over to where Timothée was, their eyes falling on an used straw; their eyes linger at the object for a second, then they turn back to one another, unable to control their laughter, which echoes through the quiet night.

"Maybe that's what my mom meant when she said I shouldn't play around with food?"

"Wow," Timothée rolls his eyes, shoves Armie aside and rolls to the floor, eyes up to the ceiling. "Are you always this lame?"

"Most of the time," Armie shrugs, leaving on his elbow so he can stare down at Timothée. As their eyes meet, he smiles, his index finger tracing his features gently. "Have you talked to Lauren?"

"Lauren? Yeah, we had lunch together today," Timothée says, cocking an eyebrow. "Why you asking?"

"Nothing, just wondering."

"Just wondering?," he scoffs, closing his eyes as Armie continues to move his finger around his face, his nose and lips specially. "Are you afraid we talked about you, Hammer?"

"Not really," Armie says after a beat and Timothée can feel his breathing closer. "I know you're not gonna tell anyone about what is going on between us."

The words are followed by the absence of Armie's touch and Timothée instantly opens his eyes, looking to his right to see that Armie has now lied down too. He bites his lip, studies the expression on his face with care, scared that he might notice some disappointment or regret, but Armie seems rather calm and nonchalant.

"You don't have to worry, I'm not asking you to say anything to anyone," Armie bursts out before Timothée has the chance to say anything. With a smile, he turns his face towards him, their eyes locked once again. "I get that you're not in search of anything serious, you have a lot on your plate already and it takes time to get over the things you went through with your scumbag ex. I'm just glad we get to know each other a little bit better, have some fun and enjoy each other's company."

"Who would've thought the guy who nearly yelled at me for contesting the price of his spices turned out to be such an understanding person."

"You'll never let that one go, will you?"

"As if you will," he smirks and rolls on top of Armie, his hands stroking his beard. "But back to your question. Yes, I talked to Lauren and she invited me to spend the weekend at their lake house."

"Oh, so you're coming too?"

"Yes, I am," he nods, a little smile on the corner of his lips. "Have you been there before?"

"Twice, it's a really nice place and the view from the lake is breathtaking."

"Yeah, she showed me some photos."

"Trust me, they do not make the place any justice," he tucks a curl behind Timothée's ear, his thumb softly caressing his skin. "She's also invited some other friends of hers apparently."

"Oh," Timothée bites his lip, trying to hold back a laugh as Armie stares at him rather confusingly. "Right, yeah, she mentioned that too."

"Why does it seem like you're hiding something from me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't," he shakes his head, cradles Armie's face and pulls him closer, kissing him once again, his tongue invading his mouth only seconds later. He pulls him closer, rolls them back until Armie is hovering on top of him, hooks a leg over his hip, his hands sliding all the way down his back towards his ass, which he squeezes.

"I know you're trying to distract me," Armie says in between kisses. "And usually I'd be mad, but you're just too hot for me to do it."

"Ummm, good to know," Timothée chuckles before wrapping his arms around Armie's neck, kissing him passionately


	15. 21st Century Pillowtalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pleasant and not so pleasant surprises

Timothée is still chewing when he hops off of the stool, throws his plate and mug into the sink, then runs out of the kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom, his green eyes immediately scanning the place. He takes his boot from behind the door, sits on the edge of the bed and quickly puts them on, tying the laces as fast as he can without making a mess out of them. He leans back on the bed, trying to catch his breath, only to push himself up and rush out of the bedroom seconds later.

He stops by the living room, a frown forming on his forehead as he tries to remember where he left his keys and wallet. After he arrived the previous night, he didn't really care much about where anything was and then Armie showed up, which obviously caused him to forget about anything else. He smiles at the thought, hears his phone ringing and nearly dives into the couch to catch it, answering as soon as he sees Pauline´s name light up the screen.

"Isn´t a bit too early for you to be awake?"

"Good morning to you too, Timothée," she replies, the condescending tone in her voice not missed by Timothée. "So, how´s the boyfriend?"

"One, I don't have a boyfriend. Two, when did my sex life suddenly became such an interesting topic to people?"

"When you got yourself a firefighter and a farmer fighting for your sweet ass."

"No one´s fighting for anything."

"Only because Armie was smarter and swiped you off of your feet before poor Jared could even apologize for missing the date," Pauline chuckles and Timothée can almost imagine the exact look she´s got on her face. "Gotta give my props to Armie, the man sure knows how to win someone over."

"Shut up."

"I'll shut up if you answer my question first."

"What question?"

"How´s your boyfriend doing?," as Timothée groans, Pauline laughs. "Fine, how´s Armie?"

"Well, he seemed pretty damn good last night."

"Oh, so you saw him again already? Man, things are going fast between you two."

"We watched a film and ate some burgers he brought, Pauline."

"I doubt that's all you did, Timmy. C´mon, spill the beans, I´m your big sister."

"What exactly do you want to know?," he wonders, a smile spreading across his lips once he finally finds his keys and wallet. He sighs in relief, rushes out of the door and locks it behind it before walking down the sidewalk, the sunlight kissing his skin.

"I want you to tell me everything, without missing one bit."

"Fine. We had sex on the living room floor, I was on top, he left yet another hickey on me and then we talked for a few minutes before he went back to his place. Does that sound good enough for you?"

"Yes, that sounds good to me."

"You´re so weird," Timothée chuckles.

"Well, my life has been quite boring lately, so let me live vicariously through yours, will ya?"

"Or maybe you could find yourself someone to focus your mind on."

"Sadly not all of us have your luck, Timmy."

"Seth is always there."

"Ew, that's gross," she groans and Timothée can´t help but laugh. "But seriously, how things going between you and Armie?"

"We´re just getting to know one another, you know? He's actually really fun to be around, he's intelligent and can talk about basically everything, not to mention he's really good at cooking."

"Yeah, that was pretty much obvious at that dinner we had with Greg and Lauren. Then again, back then you were still pretending to loath the guy."

"I never said I hated him or anything," he protests, glancing down at the street before crossing it. "We just always seemed to get on each other's nerves more than anything, but now I see that we have some things in common."

"And he's great in bed, which makes it all even better, right?"

"Well..."

"Well?"

"Yeah, he's pretty great."

"I knew it," she laughs. "What about your precious restaurant, how's it going?"

"We had some problems at the bathroom, which are slowing things down a little bit, but apart from that, it is all good. Dean and his team are doing a great job bringing all my dreams to life, I honestly can´t wait for you guys to come back here and see how incredible it looks."

"The photos you sent the other day were already incredible, I can´t even imagine how it will look once it's furnitured and decorated."

"It's gonna be the best restaurant you´ve ever been to, simple as that."

"So cocky," she mumbles and Timothée rolls his eyes. "But yeah, it will definitely be the best restaurant I´ve ever been into, simply because it will be yours and I love you."

"Love you too, sis," he smiles, his eyes finding the store he had been looking for. "Okay, I gotta go now. I have some shopping to do and can´t have you distracting me all the way through it."

"How dare you?"

"Bye, Pauline."

"Timothée Chalamet, you better not..."

He rolls his eyes, hangs up the phone and puts it in his pocket before entering the store, his eyes glowing as he sees all the different articles spread around the room. 

* * *

  
  
  


"Chalamet?"

Timothée raises his eyes from his phone as his name is called, the barista now standing by the right side of the counter, holding a large cup of latte, her eyes scanning the room in search of its owner. He stuffs his phone back in his pocket as he walks over, taking the cup as he smiles and thanks her, who gives him a quick nod in return. 

He sips on the coffee on his way out, appreciating the warmth of it, even if the day itself is one of the hottest ones he has had to face ever since he made it to California. He glances up at the sky, notices the complete absence of clouds and almost laughs as he starts to compare it with what he used to see on a daily basis in New York. 

And while he surely misses that strange but still beautiful weather, he's getting more and more comfortable and in love with the way the days go by in Los Angeles. Walking down the street, Timothée keeps close attention to every single store he passes by, memorizing some he would like to go back eventually, while stopping by the showcase of others to appreciate better some of the items displayed there.

He eventually finds one where he can spot some quite interesting chairs, takes a sip of his latte and walks in, smiling at the vendor who walks in his direction. He asks a couple of questions, looks at some of the different models and walks out with a small cost estimate, which he carefully studies as he walks back outside. The restaurant is slowly coming to life, the bar is nearly done and so is the main room, which means in a matter of weeks he will be good to start decorating the place, so he is keen on finding things that match what he has in mind for the space.

Absorbed in all the numbers in the paper, Timothée barely notices when a door opens in front of him and someone steps out, bumping into him and causing his cup to drop from his hand straight into the pavement, the splash of coffee catching both his and the other man's pants and shoes. He groans, cursing under his breath as he takes a quick step back, trying to avoid even more of a mess than he has already done; he sighs, glances up and bites his lip, realizing Jared is the one standing in front of him, his nose wrinkled as he looks down at his now coffee stained jeans.

"Jared," Timothée nearly whispers, covering his mouth in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, I guess neither one of us was really paying much attention."

"Fuck, I feel so bad."

"Don´t worry, it can happen with anyone."

"Yeah, but I should be paying more attention to what is going on around me."

"I guess one can leave New York, but New York can never truly leave them."

Timothée scoffs, shaking his head.

"I'm joking," Jared assures him after a second, a small smile on his lips. "How you doing? I mean, besides walking around without even glancing to the side?"

"I'm doing fine."

"I'm glad."

"Are you?"

"Timothée, I´m sad and disappointed things didn´t work between the two of us, but I´d never wish you anything bad. You´re a good guy, you deserve good things in your life and I am old enough to know that forcing something you´re not comfortable with or into it, doesn´t get us anywhere."

"As cliche as it may sound," Timothée begins, smiling gently at Jared. "It wasn't anything to do with you, but everything to do with me. Truth be told, I should have never said yes to going out with you, because I knew it wasn´t something I was really feeling it, but you are such an amazing guy it felt stupid of me not to try."

"And then I blew it."

"No, you didn´t. I think things happened exactly the way they were supposed to, like most things in life."

"Maybe you´re right," he sighs, looking down at his feet before glancing back up at Timothée. "How things going with...with the other guy?"

"You don´t wanna talk about that, Jared."

"I'm man enough to have this discussion without breaking into tears or anything, Timothée."

"Okay. Well, we´re just getting to know each other, it´s nothing serious."

"But you´re having fun, right?"

"Yes," he nods. "Yes, I am."

"Then that's all that matters."

"Are you doing good?"

"Yeah, I´m trying to enjoy my day off as much as possible, mostly because I know they can call me any minute if necessary."

"The cons of being a real life superhero, right?"

"I guess you could say so," he shrugs, a light blush coming to his cheeks. "Have you found yourself some time to relax? Or you´re all about work still?"

"I´m trying to mix it up, luckily I have a few people surrounding me, who make sure I get some quality free time."

"You deserve it."

"We all do."

"Right," he nods. "I should probably go, need to change my pants before I can even think of doing anything else today."

"Jared, I´m so sorry."

"It's alright, don't sweat it."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"You don't have to."

"I´ll give you a free meal once the restaurant is open."

"Well, in that case you can ruin all of my clothes," he jokes as Timothée laughs. "Seriously, don´t worry. A little bit of coffee in my pants is nothing when you play with fire every single day of your life."

"I guess you´re right," he smiles, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I'll see you around?"

"Definitely."

Timothée nods, awkwardly returns the hug Jared gives him and then watches as he crosses the street. He sighs, looks down at himself and frowns as he notices just how bad his pants look. 

"Guess I'll be needing a shower again."

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée exits the Uber in a rush, his stride fast and slightly unstable as he makes it through the front yard, which right now looks more like an abandoned garden, filled with dead plants, torn grass and rubble. It's quite an unsettling sight if he is being honest, but he knows once everything is done and the landscaping company comes to do their work, the front yard will be just as pleasant as the back one and the rest of the restaurant. 

He enters the building with his phone and clipboard in hand already, his eyes scanning the list of things he has to take care of, while the sound of hammering and breaking fill up the air. He glances around the place, notices the stairs are already done as well as the baseboard of the walls in the entirety of the main room, which means that section is already set for painting. He smiles, takes a few steps further into the bar, his hand running along the wooden structure as in his mind he imagines all the setups they can have there.

Along with the decorator, he has already created all these different possibilities for the bar, which he plans to make as a place for people to chill while waiting for their tables or for whoever just wants to have a couple of drinks and talk with a friend. But while he dreams of what the place will once be, reality seems to call him back to the ground and a loud breaking sound catches his attention.

Confused and already scared, Timothée quickly walks down the hallway and over to the bathroom, where he expects to see even more problems. Much to his surprise, what he sees is Dean standing by the middle of the room, instructing his men as they start putting on the flooring. He smiles, relieved to see the bathroom that had caused him quite a headache is finally coming together.

"Everything okay here?," he asks, preparing himself for the worst in any case. "I heard something breaking."

"One of the floorings fell, but it's nothing for you to worry about, Timothée."

"Thank God, I couldn't bear to see any more problems with these bathrooms," he chuckles, relief clear in his eyes as he takes a couple of steps further, inspecting the work. "How long until they are both finished?"

"I hope I can move on from them by next Tuesday, then we´re gonna move back to the main room and do the last finishing touches before you and the decorator can start your job."

"That sounds like music to my ears, Dean."

"Your office is almost done too, you can check it out if you want to," he explains as Timothée nods, stopping by the tiles that are set to the side, a light grey tone to them, which will fit perfectly with the granite top he bought for the sink. "Oh, I almost forgot, there's someone waiting for you on the back."

"Who?," he asks slightly confused, looking down at his clipboard, aware he wasn't really expecting anyone for the day. 

"A farmer or something? He said he needed to discuss something with you and would wait."

"A farmer?," Timothée smirks, nodding his head. "Okay, I might know who it is. Thanks, Dean."

"No, problem."

He turns on his heels, clipboard pressed against his chest as he walks down the hallway and over to the backyard, where Armie is sitting in one of the chairs, head down and phone in hand as he scrolls through it.

"Are you stalking me?"

"You wish," Armie replies even before he raises his gaze from the phone. "But no, I´m here to talk about business, which is something we've failed to do the last three times we met one another."

"And whose fault is that?"

"I will take the blame for a lot of things, but I surely won't take the blame for this, considering your mouth was around my body just as much as mine was on yours."

Timothée bites his lip, a dark crimson filling his cheeks as Armie smirks, leaning back on his chair, arms crossed and blue eyes staring deeply into him. He glances back inside, closes the slide door behind him and joins Armie on the table, leaning his chin against his palm.

"Okay, so you want to talk business?"

"It's important if we want this partnership to work."

"Armie, I don't want this partnership to work, I need this partnership to work. You understand me?"

"Fine, Chalamet. Then let's start by laying out exactly what you need from me, because while your proposal was very good, you did fail to explain everything you wanted."

"Normally I'd be mad at how you just phrased that, but I´ll let it slide, mainly because I really need your products."

"Just my products?," he smirks and Timothée rolls his eyes, although he can´t stop himself from letting out a soft chuckle. "You love my jokes, don´t you?"

"Quite the opposite, actually."

"Then why do you always end up laughing?"

"They are so bad I laugh out of pity."

"I´ll pretend I believe that," he winks and then reaches for the chair beside him, taking a thin folder, which he goes through quickly and removes a paper sheet from it, sliding it over to Timothée. "This is the list of products we currently work with, obviously some of those things are more seasonal than others, which means we might have a shortage at some point, but most of the time we have no problem delivering them. Also, you didn´t specify if you´ll want seasoning or any other herbs and spices, it would be nice knowing so we can start building up a schedule and see how deliveries will be made."

Timothée stares down at the sheet of paper, then glances back at Armie, an impressed expression on his face. While they had a brief conversation about their partnership in Armie´s office, this is probably the first time they actually sat down to dive deep into everything Timothée will be needing from Armie and his family business. And while the whole conversation itself is another reminder of how close he is to have his restaurant come to life, it's also a nice glimpse into another side of Armie, one he hasn't had the chance to explore more.

"What? Is there something in my face?"

"No, I´m just pleasantly surprised to see your work persona come alive right in front of me."

"I doubt I have much of a work persona," Armie shrugs. "I mean, I try to be as professional as possible, but I doubt that whole businessman attitude is really my thing."

"You are a businessman though."

"I guess so, in some ways. But mostly, I got my degree because I loved that farm more than anything and I knew we could be a lot bigger and better than we were."

"And you did it," he smiles. "I mean, everywhere I go, there´s someone ready to talk about you and the amazing products you sell."

"Well, I try my best to keep my clients pleased."

"I have a feeling the moment you look at them with those big blue eyes of yours and flash them a smile, they are incredibly pleased and ready to say yes to whatever you propose to them."

Armie laughs, shaking his head.

"What? You think my work strategy is to hit on every single client of mine?"

"I sure hope not, although I see how that could work into your advantage."

"I try not to mix work with pleasure."

"How´s that working out for you?," Timothée smirks, crossing his arms above his chest, an eyebrow cocked at Armie, who licks his lips and leans against the table, his eyes never leaving his.

"What´s going on between us is completely different."

"Is it?," Timothée wonders, leaning against the table too, his face inches away from Armie´s now. "How so?"

"This thing between us started way before any work partnership came into play."

"And what thing is going on between us?"

"Honestly? I don't really know how to label it, but I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? As long as we like it."

"I like it quite a lot."

"Good, because so do I," he stretches his index finger, gently stroking Timothée´s hand, a little smirk on the corner of his lip as he notices the hairs on his arm standing straight up. "Now, shouldn't we go back to business?"

"We probably should."

"What you gonna need from me?," Armie asks, leaning back against the chair, his intense stare turned into a soft gaze.

"Everything?"

* * *

  
  


Timothée brings the computer to his lap, his eyes tired as he goes through yet another long list of possible dishes for the restaurant, all of them laid out with the ingredients needed and a possible vegetarian -or even vegan- version. He sighs, reaches for the glass of iced tea on the coffee table and takes a few sips of it, licking his lips afterwards. He edits a couple of things, adds a few more items and then closes his eyes, rubbing then slowly before he closes the computer lid and sets it aside.

He lies down on the couch, stares up at the ceiling and allows himself to get lost in thoughts. He thinks about the restaurant, how this life is gonna change even more in the next couple of months; the weekend at the lake with Greg, Lauren and Ella; but mostly he thinks of Armie, the touch of his fingers against his smooth skin, the way his blue eyes seem to stare deep into his soul and how good it feels to be around him.

He left New York seeking change, a new understanding of what his life could be and in the course of two months he had found someone who he seemed to have a real connection with, someone who understood his needs and didn't push him into anything he didn't want to. Armie was different than anyone else he had met in his life, there was a boyish wonder to him, but at the same time he was all man, a kind and gentle one, who worked hard for what he wanted and graced people around him with his stories. Truth be told, Armie was even better than people made him out to be.

He scoffs, rolls his eyes at how stupidly lovestruck he sounds and then pushes himself into a sitting position, his eyes glancing around the living room, the moonlight already coming in through the large windows. He inhales deeply, stands up and walks to the kitchen refilling his glass of iced tea before he makes it to the bedroom, his suitcase already lying in bed and his closet wide open.

After arriving home he spent a couple of minutes trying to get his bag done for the weekend, but after about ten minutes of staring into his closet, he simply realized he wasn't apt for such a task at that moment. As he stands there now, Timothée doubts he´s in any better shape to do so, but realizes it's inevitable to postpone something that needs to be done. He reaches for a couple of shirts, throws them down on the bed and stares down at them, a wrinkled nose as he tries to make it out if any of those are actually good enough for a weekend at the lake.

He sips on his tea, raises his eyebrow as he hears the doorbell ringing and walks out of the bedroom, quickly heading to the front door, a cheeky grin on his face as he expects to see Armie standing there. Once he opens though, is Lauren the one standing there, a large and beaming smile on her lips.

"Hey, hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, actually you´re just the person I needed."

"I am?"

"Yes," he smiles, pulling her inside the house. "Do you have to be back home soon?"

"Not really, Greg and Armie are with Ella, they are helping her build a fort in the backyard."

"Oh, Armie´s there?"

"Yeah, it´s been a while since he saw Ella and apparently she couldn't wait until tomorrow to see him again."

"Of course," he smiles.

"So, what do you need me for?"

"I was about to start packing for the weekend, but I have absolutely no idea of what to take with me, so maybe you could help me with it?"

"I have a feeling you´re the type who likes to pack a little bit of everything, just so he won't be caught off guard?"

"Guilty."

"Yeah, I figured."

"So, can you help me? I have freshly baked cookies, so I can pay you with it."

Lauren chuckles, following Timothée down the hallway to his bedroom.

"You don't have to pay me, but I'm pretty sure Ella will like the idea."

"Oh, about that," he says, turning on his heels to look at her, a little cheeky grin on his face. "I may have prepared a couple of lemon cookies to take with us, I hope you don´t mind."

"Me? Timothée, I could eat every single thing you cook."

"That's sweet of you, but some parents don't like when their kids have too many sweets."

"You bake the cookies, I´ll deal with Ella and her monstrous stomach."

"Deal," Timothée shakes her hand, laughing at their silly little scene before he turns on his heels and brings her closer, patting her back. "So, back to the packing issue."

"Jesus, you have way too many clothes for a guy, I´m so not used to that."

"Yeah, I´ve heard that a lot."

"Okay, let's start with shirts," she clears her throat, walking into the closet as Timothée remains in the doors, watching her. "It's just a three day trip, so you definitely don't need much, but it's important to have a spare one in case anything happens. So I´d say three for each day, one of them something you'd wear to go out."

"It sounds like you do this a lot," he says, a frown forming on his face as Lauren shrugs. "Let me guess, Greg isn't very good at packing either?"

"Absolutely terrible."

"What about your friend, is she still joining us?"

"Alice?," Timothée nods. "Oh yeah, she's really excited to meet Armie. I sent her a picture of him and as usual, she's absolutely enchanted by his looks. I´m actually quite hopeful for this meeting, I think this time I've found someone who matches him well."

Timothée smiles, trying his best to keep an impassive look on his face as he nods his head. 

* * *

  
  


The kitchen smells of cheese, wine and nutmeg, the scents mixing together as Timothée leans against the stove, gently stirring a wooden spoon in the pan, his eyes attentive to the mixture inside. He raises his gaze at the sound of giggles, sees Armie chasing after Ella through the kitchen window and smiles, the bond between them something Timothée has learned to love. 

He glances back at the pan, moves the spoon across it and turns off the stove, turning on his heels to reach for the bowl he had already left in the counter waiting for him. He adds a couple spoonfuls of pasta into his bowl, grabs a fork by the drainer and then opens the fridge to get himself a slice of parmesan cheese, which he grates on top of the pasta. 

He smiles at himself, pours some wine into his glass and walks to the living room, cuddling against the cushions of the couch as he turns on the television and starts flipping through the channels. He frowns at some of the titles, chuckles as he stops by a couple of random reality shows and then finally changes to Netflix, choosing one of the films in the top ten grid. And although the film surely isn't what he would choose normally, Timothée just wants something he can enjoy without having to think too much. He's already doing too much of that on a daily basis.

He takes a few mouthfuls of pasta, the cheesy texture a delight that was much needed after a whole day of work. He chuckles with the movie, sips on his wine and then groans as his phone vibrates, catching him slightly off guard. He reaches for it, a frown forming on his face as he notices it's a Google Alert. He clicks on it, but regrets as soon as the pages loads and he is met with an extent article about Wes, who has apparently won a local award given to rising chefs in New York City.

And while every single one of his instincts tells him to close the page and just go on with his life, focus on his pasta and the silly movie on the television screen, his curiosity gets the best of him and he reads the entirety of the article, his face a mix of expressions as he goes through the most notable passages of it. When he reaches the part where Wes ravishes on all the hard work he has done to get to where he is right now, how many hours he spent stuck inside his kitchen creating new dishes while his family and friends had fun and enjoyed life, Timothée nearly retches, his hand turning into a tight fist.

He knows Wes isn't exactly lying, he did spend long nights stuck in the kitchen of their tiny apartment, going crazy with all the new recipes he was trying to create, but things were a lot more gruesome than he made it out to be. First, he did it because he wanted to, because he didn't care much about spending time with anyone else; his true love was himself and the things he created, so being stuck in a kitchen for hours was like an orgasm to him. Second, whenever someone dared to walk in the kitchen without him allowing them, he would nearly scream in rage, saying his creative juices were being interrupted.

As he thinks back to those days, Timothée can´t help but shiver, the memory of how many nights he ordered food just because he didn't want to disturb Wes more than he could count. Thinking back now, Timothée was just a trophy, tossed to the side of the apartment, to be used whenever Wes was feeling like it.

"Asshole," he mumbles, still stuck on the article, which he reads all the way to the end, a lump on his throat when the reporter in charge of the article mentions a woman that Wes has been seeing for a couple of months now, how in love the couple seems to be and how good they look together. 

And even without names, Timothée knows exactly who the woman is. The one he caught putting on her clothes one random week morning when he got back from his parent's place a little sooner than expected. The one who didn´t even think twice before saying, right in his face, that she had spent the night with Wes, fucking him in his own bed. That same day, when Wes finally arrived home, Timothée confronted him and saw his life turn around completely.

He sighs, closes the pages and tosses the phone to the side, his eyes moving to the bowl of pasta, which has now grown cold and unappealing. He bites his lip, trying to prevent a couple of tears from falling and gets up, taking the bowl back to the kitchen. He leans against the counter, inhaling deeply as his eyes run through the kitchen and then stop by the window, catching another glimpse of Armie and Ella, who´s now sitting on his shoulders, her hands gripping onto Armie´s as he runs after Greg. 

He manages to smile, even if just a little bit, and then grabs the wine bottle from the counter, taking it with him to the bedroom. He gets under the covers, fingers running through his curls and pushing them back before he settles against the pillows. He turns on the television, picks up the film from where he left off in the living room and lets the sound fill up the air, while he loses himself in the bottle of wine.

* * *

  
  
  


It's just past midnight when Timothée wakes up, the television still on and the wine bottle, which is now empty, by the feet of the bed. He groans, pushes some of his curls back and leans against his elbows, glancing around the dark bedroom slightly confused. He squints his eyes, reality finally clicking in and sighs, licking his dry lips as he sits up straight. 

He notices he's still wearing his jeans, his shirt is sweaty and his head is pounding as if a dozen little Timothées were hammering directly on his brain. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply before pushing himself up and dragging his now heavy and tired body to the bathroom. He takes off his clothes, tosses them to the laundry bin and gets in the shower, the cold water waking him up and helping him put the pieces of the night back together.

He then remembers the article about Wes he ended up reading and curses under his breath, hating himself for even opening such a thing. He leans against the tiled wall, trying to clear his head for even just a couple of minutes so he can enjoy his shower, the way the water cascades down his body and relaxes every single muscle in his shoulder.

When he finally steps out of the shower, Timothée reaches for the towel on the hook, drying himself off quickly before wrapping it around his waist. He leaves the bathroom, goes straight to the kitchen and fills up a kettle, hopping on the counter as he waits for the water to boil. He yawns, glances at the kitchen window and then remembers he went to the bedroom in a rush, completely overwhelmed by Wes´s article and forgot about even checking the front door and the windows.

He jumps off, rushes around the house, checking every single window and door, a sigh escaping him when he realizes despite everything he didn't leave his house at the mercy of anyone. He spots his phone nestled between the couch cushions and reaches for it, a couple of notifications on the screen. He unlocks it, scrolls through some random emails and work stuff, which he can easily deal with the next morning, checks the messages Pauline and Seth sent him, only so he can then stop by the one from Armie.

**_< hammer>_ ** _ almost knocked at your door tonight _

_ then thought you could kick me out _

_ so turned around and left _

_.... _

_ consider this me giving you a break before an entire weekend stuck with me ;) _

Timothée sits down on the arm of the couch, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he reads the message over and over again. Armie was the complete opposite of Wes, which was clearly why he found himself so drawn to him all of a sudden, because once he got to know him and see who he truly is, he realized he is the kind of man any person would want in their lives. 

The sound of the kettle is what takes his eyes off of the phone in his hand and Timothée pushes himself up, walking back to the kitchen to prepare himself some tea. He takes a few sips, a sigh of contentment escaping him afterwards as he sits on one of the stools, his elbows leaned against the counter, his eyes distant as he plays with the phone in his hand and the smell of tea fills the air.

**_< timothee>_ ** _ do i get a prize if i survive an entire weekend stuck with you? _

_ idk why  _

_ but i feel like i should _

Timothée bites his lip, places the phone down and sips again on his tea, the warmth of it comforting and a great medicine for the banging in his head.

**_< hammer>_ ** _ what is a businessman like you still doing up? _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ i could ask you the very same question, mr. farmer _

**_< hammer>_ ** _ touche _

_... _

_ also the only prize you get is me _

Timothée chuckles, shaking his head at Armie´s sillinest, but loving every single second of it anyway.

**_< timothee>_ ** _ huh... i can deal with that _

_ i think _


	16. Friday Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this that I am feeling?

Timothée yawns, his eyes down as he scrolls through spreadsheets in his phone, the numbers and names written there starting to mix in together, a consequence of the tiredness that washes over him after a night of late night texting. He frowns as he clicks on a particular segment, bites his lip and goes back into one of the many contracts he now has saved on his phone, just to guarantee the numbers are right.

Completely immersed in all the figures, Timothée doesn't even notice the queue moving in front of him and stands still, trying to make sense of everything he is seeing on the tiny screen of his phone. Is only when he hears someone clear their throat that Timothée looks up, meeting the intense gaze of the barista, who resembles the stare of someone who´s most certainly plotting to kill him. He immediately locks his phone, tucks it in his pocket and forces a smile as he takes a step forward.

"Good morning."

"What can I get you, Sir?"

"A mocha latte and the smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, please."

The woman nods, her face serious the entire time she works on the computer, registering his order before taking his debit card. He bites his lip, his eyes constantly moving from the numbers on the machine to her, who barely even looks him in the eye. She takes his name, gives him the receipt and before he can even think of thanking her again, calls out the next one in line.

"Alright," he mumbles to himself, sliding to the far corner of the counter, his eyes already scanning the place in search of a table where he can sit and go through his work in peace. He gets tapped on the shoulder and turns around, smiling as another barista shows up with his order in hand, this one sporting a kind and welcoming smile on his lips. "Thank you."

He takes the plate and cup in his hands, swiftly makes his way around the coffee shop and takes a seat in the back of the building, just beneath a large window, which allows a lot of sunlight to come on in. He looks out of the window while taking a few sips of his coffee, notices a couple of tourists walking around, cameras in their hands and beaming smiles on their lips. For a second, Timothée wonders if the locals could easily notice he wasn't from there right after he moved in and chuckles as he remembers how proud Armie felt when he found out he was right and he wasn't, in fact, from Los Angeles.

Trying not to dwell much into frivolities, Timothée moves his gaze down to the table, takes a bite of his bagel sandwich and opens the thin folder he had under his arm. He flips through a couple of the pages there, analyzing every single thing that needs to be done, trying to schedule things the best way possible so he won't be swamped with work too close to the restaurant´s opening and sighs when he realizes one very important part of this whole process he hasn't yet put much thought into it. 

He was so focused on building the perfect restaurant, having a beautiful bathroom and an even better dining room, Timothée nearly forgot about building a strategy for hiring his employees, which was something he would have to start doing soon enough. He needed cooks, waiters, cleaners and bartenders, people who would have his back when things went crazy. He groans, flips through a couple of the pages and finds a blank one, which he swiftly fills up with notes, numbers and question marks. 

As he takes one final bite of his sandwich, his phone starts ringing and he quickly reaches for it in his pocket, a little smile as he sees Seth´s name on the screen. He takes a sip of coffee before answering, his friend´s voice coming slightly muffled and breathy, almost as if he just came out of a marathon.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?"

"Good morning to you too, Chalamet, how is it going?"

"I´m doing good, albeit slightly sleepy," he admits, leaning back on the chair. "You on the other hand, sounds a little bit like you just ran a marathon, which is something I know you don´t do."

"I just came from the bakery, ran up the seven flights of stairs."

"You do know your building has an elevator, right?"

"It's broken."

"Again?"

"Again," he groans. "Sometimes I feel like I live in that building from The Big Bang Theory, you know? The day I decide to move or something will be the day the elevator will finally stop being a little bitch and work properly."

Timothée simply chuckles, almost seeing the look of annoyance on Seth´s face as he says those things.

"So, why you´re so sleepy? Did you and your boyfriend who's not really your boyfriend had a wild night?"

"Boyfriend who's not really your boyfriend?"

"Well, yeah, that's the best way I found to describe him since you keep telling me he ain't your boyfriend."

"Because he isn´t," Timothée assures him. "We hooked up for the first time one week ago, we are just now getting to know one another for real, so there's no labels here and there won't be any for a long time."

"I don´t know, if I were you, I´d take hold of that man while you can."

"Would you?"

"Look, I may not be into guys or anything, but you have to admit there are not many men out there like Armie. He´s a nice guy, he's got a job he loves and does what he can to move it forward, he seems pretty damn loyal to his friends and loves kids. Not to mention the fact he´s very much into you, so the fact you´re even allowing Lauren to try and set him up with someone else seems idiotic to me."

"The way I see it, Lauren trying to set him up with someone else during the week might actually be quite entertaining to me."

"Oh, so you want to see the guy suffer? You´re an evil one, Chalamet."

"Oh, shut up," he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Armie and I have absolutely nothing serious going on, he's free to do whatever he wants and go out with whoever he wants. If he ends up liking this girl Lauren is trying to set him up with then he´s free to try it out and see how it goes."

"And you´ll be okay with that?"

"Yes, I will."

"If you say so," Seth pauses for a brief moment. "Wait, you never said why you´re sleepy. Did you spend another night working until late?"

"No, Armie and I were texting until almost two in the morning."

"You mean the same Armie who can go out with other people and you won't mind? That Armie?"

"Yes, that Armie," he replies. "And one thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, alright?"

"I never knew you liked lying to yourself that much."

"I´m not...," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "You know what, discussing this whole thing with you is worthless."

"I agree, because in the end of this whole thing, I´ll be the one to say I told you so."

"You wish."

"No, I know," he chuckles. "Anyway, you´re at the restaurant already?"

"No, I decided to get my stuff and have some coffee at the coffee shop near my place. I think I´ll stay here for a while, then do some shopping, finish packing and then stop by the restaurant, just to talk to Dean and see how everything´s going before I leave for the lake."

"You're going this afternoon?"

"Yeah, we leave at five. Apparently is about an hour drive to the lake and they have someone take care of the cabin, so the person is already there, making sure everything´s set when we arrive."

"You better take this opportunity to relax and forget about work for a while, you deserve it."

"I'll do that, you don't have to worry."

"Good, or I'll get myself a plane ticket to Los Angeles solely so I can kick your ass in person."

"You really need to get yourself a life, Seth."

"I have one, thank you very much."

"Do you? Because as far as I can tell, you...," he trails off, a frown forming on his face all of a sudden. "Wait, you have a bartender friend, don´t you?"

"Yes."

"Great, can you send me his contact? I need to start working on hiring people for the restaurant and he might be able to give me a few tips on the best bartenders out there."

"Will do, but only once you´re back from the lake."

Timothée groans, shaking his head.

"You´re so fucking annoying."

"Maybe, but you still love me."

* * *

  
  


Timothée exits the grocery store with a couple of bags in his hand, his curls falling down his eyes as he squints them, trying to avoid the intense sunlight. He notices a man playing on the sidewalk, a few people surrounding him, others just snapping photographs as they pass him by. He smiles, leans against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches the scene, which for a brief second takes him back to New York. He's lost count of the times he would turn a corner and find someone playing violin, the flute or a guitar, men and women who tried everything to showcase their gift and in doing so earn a few dollars.

He takes a ten dollar bill from his pocket, places it in the man's hat and smiles, giving him a quick nod before he crosses the street and continues on his walk. He pulls up the sleeves of his shirt, slightly annoyed with himself for choosing something with a long sleeve when it was clearly going to be another hot day. Maybe he wasn't so used to the Californian lifestyle as he thought he was. He sighs, shifts the bags from one hand to the other, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he arrives at the farmer's market, waving and greeting the vendors he has now gotten acquainted with. 

He stops by a stand, waving at the little girl that sits by the huge gallon of watermelon juice, takes a plastic cup from the pile next to him and hands it to her, thanking her after she gives the cup back, now filled with juice. He takes a few sips, licking his lips afterwards and winks at the little girl. He hears a familiar voice and looks over his shoulder, giving a side hug to the woman that approaches him, her dark curly hair tied up in a braid that falls down her back.

"Timothée, it's been a while."

"Merely three days, Winona."

"I want you here every single day," she chuckles, walking around the wooden stand and reaching for a peach, which she hands to him. "Taste this one, it is absolutely marvellous."

Timothée takes a bite of the peach, the juices nearly running down the sides of his mouth, the sweet taste lingering on his tongue.

"Oh, this is really good."

"Right? The apples are pretty damn good too," she explains, leaning against the structure of the stand. "But if you want to go and check things on your friend's stand, it's okay."

"My friend?"

"Hammer," she winks, crossing her arms as Timothée bites his lip. "I noticed his stand is the only one you never miss when you come here, you always have to stop by and buy something."

"He's got really great products."

"Good products, right?," she smirks and Timothée can feel his cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Don't worry, everyone loves that guy. The amount of women that come here just to gawk at him is insane, but highly amusing to us."

"I bet it is," he says, glancing back at Armie's stand, where he stands with a box in his arms, his shirt sleeves rolled up exposing his biceps as he talks to a group of people, most of them women. "Anyway, I should get going, I have a lot to do today and not much time."

"What about the peaches?"

"Give me six," he winks, hands her the money and waits until she has put them all in a paper bag, which she carefully hands to him. "Thanks Winona, thank you Riley."

"Bye, Timmy."

He waves at her, takes a couple steps back and turns on his heels, heading to a stand only a couple of feet away from Winona's. He grabs a few herbs, hands the vendor a couple of bills and smiles as he is given another bag, which he holds along with the others. As he makes his way to Armie's stand, he notices a new group of women have approached him, but he is pleased to see a large smile spread across his lips when his eyes find his.

He places down the box he's holding, cleans his hands on the dark blue apron he's wearing and crosses his arms, a little cheeky grin on his face as he watches him approach. Timothée can barely control the smile on his face, finding Armie's gesture both silly and extremely lovely. He rolls his eyes, nudges him softly and squeezes himself in between him and one of the women, reaching out for the pumpkins.

"Slept well?," Armie asks, leaning against the stand, his blue eyes focused ahead, watching the movement around the market.

"When you allowed me, yes."

"When I allowed you? You make it sound like I was holding you hostage or something," he chuckles, leaning closer to Timothée so he can whisper in his ear. "You could have dropped the phone at any minute."

"And miss you rambling about how amazing the new harvest of carrots were?," he scoffs, cocking an eyebrow as Armie chuckles. "I mean, no dream I could possibly have would be as thrilling as that, would they?"

"No, I don't think so," he replies, pushing himself off of the stand and circling it to the back, his hands gripping onto the structure. "What can I get you today? Although I find it odd you're shopping for fruits and vegetables when you're about to take a trip for the weekend."

"That's exactly why I'm buying it," he explains, tossing a couple of lemons in Armie's direction. "I'm not just gonna show up at someone else's house empty handed."

"So, you're gonna be our personal chef for the weekend?"

"I could easily be, I might need a sous-chef, though. Know of anyone who might be up for the job?"

He shrugs, pretending to be in deep thought. "I'm sure we can manage something."

"Yeah, me too," he smirks, moving to the side to grab a couple of oranges, which he hands to Armie. As he packs everything, Timothée leans his hip against the stand, watching his every move as if he was something he needed to study and memorize every single detail of.

* * *

  
  


Timothée walks down the street, his eyes moving around to the other restaurants in the street, some more artistic, promising the customer a completely new gastronomic experience, while others seem more down to earth, a place you can sit down with your friends without much pomposity and just enjoy a nice meal. If everything worked out the way he wanted, Timothée´s restaurant would be a good combination of both; a place where you could chill out with friends and still make a good impression to whoever you wanted to impress.

He stops all of a sudden, hands in the pocket of his jeans as he stares at the building ahead of him, which slowly takes a brand new shape and becomes exactly what he had always dreamt of. He smiles, lets out a sigh of contentment and crosses the lawn, his hand resting against the front wall before he makes his way inside, his eyes quickly spotting the group of men who work on the wall by the bar. 

He glances up, notices a few more men working in the office area and then heads down the hallway towards the bathrooms, poking his head in to see if he finds Dean somewhere. He frowns as he notices the place is mostly empty, but progression has been made and he notices there's barely anything left to be done. After days worrying about the place, it feels good to see everything turned out fine in the end.

He hears voices coming from the kitchen and turns on his heels, heading over there, where Dean and another man are. He leans against the doorframe, watching as they discuss something, Dean with a piece of paper in his hand. Once they are done and Dean notices him, Timothée waves, a small smile on the corner of his lips.

"Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," Dean nods. "I thought we wouldn't see you here today."

"You really thought you´d get rid of me that easily, Dean?," he chuckles, crossing his arms as he gives the kitchen a general look. "Everything alright around here?"

"Everything´s going perfect. The guys are giving a few last touches to the bar, your office has all the shelves installed and the bathroom upstairs is already one hundred percent functional. The ones down here are also about to be finished, I hope we can start installing the windows and toilet seats on Monday morning."

"That sounds great," Timothée nods. "You might even finish before the scheduled date, right?"

"There's a chance, yeah."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

"Oh, the french doors you ordered have arrived."

"Really? Where are they?"

"Down at the back," Timothée nods and turns on his heels, exiting the kitchen and walking down the hallway to the backyard. As he spots the large solid oak doors, he can´t help but let a wide smile spread across his lips, his hands tracing it gently. "You did a really good job choosing them, Timothée. Having these as the front door or the restaurant is only gonna help enhance the customer's experience, they are incredible."

"That's exactly what I am hoping for," he sighs, turning back to Dean. "Is there anything else I need to know or deal with?"

"No, things are going pretty good around here."

"Okay. Well, I know you guys don't work on the weekends and I´ll be traveling with some friends, but if anything comes up, don´t hesitate to call me."

"You don't have to worry about anything, Timothée, our biggest problem was the bathrooms and that is solved now, so you won't be disturbed on your vacation. Just enjoy yourself while you still have a life outside these walls."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," he chuckles, giving the place one last look. "Okay, I´m gonna head out now. Are you guys staying for much longer?"

"We´ll be done around five today."

"Alright, I´ll be home if anything comes up."

"Again, you don't have to worry about anything."

"I try, but can´t seem to do it."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

Timothée chuckles, pats his shoulder and walks back inside, noticing a couple of mails tossed to the bar´s counter. He reaches for them, carefully inspecting the senders, but realizes it's just random bills and nothing that can´t be dealt with once he's back from his trip. He takes one last look at the restaurant, smiles at himself and reaches for his phone, snapping a couple of photos to send to his parents.

* * *

  
  


There's music playing and the windows are wide open, allowing the sunlight to come in and the smell of roasted nuts to spread not only across the house, but also through the neighborhood. In the kitchen, Timothée sings along to the music, bobbing his head from side to side as he places the baking sheet down on the counter, the muffins puffed and with a perfect brown color that brings a smile to his face. 

He swirls around, takes a sip of his wine and reaches for a spatula on the sink, turning back to the counter to cut the brownie into squares. He glances around the kitchen for a container, reaches for it on the top shelf of the cupboard and adds the brownies to it, leaving one to himself, which he eagerly eats after closing the lid to the container. He checks the time, sighs and washes his hand, drying them on the apron he then turns into a ball and tossed to the bin by the laundry.

He sits on the living room couch, his glass of wine in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through his social media as he tries to relax a little, unwind his body before he can hop on the shower and get ready for the trip. He texts Dean, makes sure everything is okay at the restaurant and sighs in relief when he says once again that there's nothing to worry about and everything will be in order once he gets back. 

It's right when he's about to get up that his phone starts vibrating and his mother's name appears on the tiny screen. He immediately hits accept, her face filling up the screen, her black hair slightly messy and the smile on her face so big, Timothée is most certain her cheeks are hurting. He waves at her, adjusting himself on the couch so he can be a little bit more comfortable, the simple fact he's seeing his mother improving his day a hundred times more.

"Hello, stranger."

"Oh, c'mon."

"What? It's been almost a week since we last talked," she shrugs, leaning her chin against her opened palm. "I'm even told since then you found yourself a boyfriend."

"Who told you that?," he asks, but immediately regrets such a stupid question. "I don't know what Pauline told you, mom, but you shouldn't believe everything she says."

"Really? She says he's a gorgeous man, who was really nice to her and Seth while they were there with you. She also mentioned something about a farm and him providing you with products, but knowing your sister, I wasn't sure if she meant it or if she was just being nasty."

Timothée buries his face in his hand, shakes his head and takes a deep breath, glancing back up at his mom, who patiently waits for his reply.

"She was not being nasty," he chuckles, trying to figure out all the things that must have gone through his mom's head as she heard those words. "His family owns a farm and he runs the business. And what she meant with he's providing me his products is that we built a partnership and he will supply the restaurant with products from his farm, all of them organic and very tasty."

"So you're dating the guy you're working with?," she asks and Timothée can see the worry in her eyes. "That didn't work out very well the last time, did it?"

"Mom, he's not my boyfriend, alright? We're just getting to know each other a little bit better, spending some time together and having fun. Besides, Armie is the complete opposite of Wes, so you don't have to worry."

"Yeah, your sister said he's a really nice man."

"He is, funny and intelligent too."

"But he's not your boyfriend?"

"But he's not my boyfriend," he chuckles. "I'd tell you if I had a boyfriend."

"Okay, I'll trust you then," she smiles, fixing herself on the chair she's sitting on. "How are you, kid? Hopefully you're not working too much."

"I'm a lot better at balancing work and pleasure. I'm actually about to go on a weekend trip with my neighbors."

"Oh, that sounds good. Where are you going?"

"Their lake house," he explains. "It's not that far away from here and it's just until Sunday, but I'm sure it's gonna be a good way to just relax a little bit and possibly forget about work."

"I saw the photos from the restaurant, by the way."

"It's looking great, isn't it?"

"I'm still shocked at how fast renovation is going."

"The contractor said they might finish before the scheduled date, which will give me a little more room to breathe, so I'm quite excited."

"I can see you're happy," she smiles. "There's a sparkle in your eyes and I can see it even through this horrible screen."

Timothée simply laughs, shaking his head.

"Although, I'm no longer sure if the sparkle is because of the restaurant or because of farm boy."

"Mom!"

"What?"

"Not you too."

"I'm only speaking the truth," she shrugs. "You seem happy, there's something different in your eyes and while it might be because your dream is finally becoming true, it might also be because of this new guy in your life. And just because he isn't your boyfriend, doesn't mean he's not important to you in some way."

"I barely know him."

"It didn't take me much time to know your father was going to be an important person in my life. And sure, I wasn't imagining marriage and kids, but I knew whatever happened, he would be someone I'd never forget."

"That's sweet."

"And this thing between you and..."

"Armie, he's name is Armie."

"Well, this thing between you and Armie might be just as important. I'm not saying you're stuck with this guy for the rest of your life, but he might be someone who ends up being a good and precious memory."

Timothée nods, unsure of what he could possibly say in response to this.

"Anyway, I don't want you to be even more embarrassed that you already are, but I have one more question about the guy."

"What is it?"

"Does he treat you right?"

Timothée blinks a couple of times, noticing the expression of worry come back to his mother's face. After all he went through with Wes, the last thing she wanted was to see him get hurt again and Timothée was fully aware of that. She suffered just as much as he did when everything unfolded, when he found himself feeling his lowest. With a little smile on his lips, Timothée nods his head, causing a sigh of relief to escape his mother.

"Yes, mom, he treats me right."

* * *

  
  


It's ten to five when Timothée crosses the front lawn of his house, one suitcase trolling behind him and four paper bags hanging from his hand. He smiles over at Lauren, who's leaned against the car, arms crossed and a rather curious expression on her face as she watches him. He stops about a feet away from her, lets out a heavy sigh and sets his things down on the ground, while his eyes scan the perimeter.

"What's with all the bags? You do remember it's just a weekend getaway, right?"

"I do remember that, but it didn't feel right to go over to your house empty handed, so I baked a couple of treats for us and am also taking a few things so I can cook while there."

"Timothée, this is supposed to be a weekend for you to relax."

"And there's no better way for me to relax than cooking."

"In this case, I say let him cook," Greg says, coming out from the other side of the car, a large smile on his face as he stands by Timothée, patting his back gently. "I'm glad you decided to join us, Tim. And I'm even more excited for the fact you'll be doing some cooking for us."

"Greg!"

"He's a fucking chef, cooking is probably the one thing he loves most in the world," he protests as Lauren sighs and Timothée nods. "And if he is willing to cook for us, why not let him?"

"He's absolutely right, Lauren."

"You're gonna regret that after you realize this one is a bottomless pit."

"Well, I'm sure he can find someone else to cook for him if I get tired," Timothée shrugs, a grin on his face as Greg chuckles. 

He helps him with the bags, stuffing them on the trunk of the car and can't help but notice it's already cramped, way more bags than three people would need. He takes a step back, catches a glimpse of Armie's car in the garage and is just about to ask for him when the front door opens and he exits, a large smile on his face as he leads Ella out of the house, a tall and gorgeous brunette trailing along.

He licks his lips, squints his eyes as he takes a good look at the woman, who is wearing a white summer dress, the color accentuating her tan and the red lipstick she's using. His eyes meet Armie's for a second and he smiles, trying to push away the weird sensation that suddenly takes him over. Why all of a sudden he cares if the woman is pretty or not?

"Alice, this is Timothée, the friend I talked to you about," Lauren introduces them.

"Nice to meet you, Timothée," Alice says while standing her hand out to shake his. "Lauren tells me you're an incredible chef."

"I like to think so," he shrugs. "And you work in Hollywood too, right?"

"Yes, makeup and styling department."

"That sounds fun."

"It can be," she shrugs, before turning her attention back to Armie, her hand landing on his forearm as she says something loud enough so only he can hear.

Timothée watches the scene in silence, his lips pressed into a thin line, a weird wave of heat spreading across his body. He sighs, licks his lips and turns to Lauren, who has Ella on her arms now, the little girl seeming a little sleepy.

"Can I get a glass of water before we leave?"

"Sure, Greg's still fixing some things at the trunk, just make yourself at home."

"Thanks," he plants a kiss on Ella's cheek and then strides across the lawn and up the steps to the porch, glancing once again at Armie and Alice before he enters the house. He sighs, fingers running through his hair as he walks to the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of water as soon as he gets there. He leans against the counter, fingers tapping on the granite as he stares ahead, trying to clear his head and figure out exactly what he is feeling. He's distracted enough not to hear the footsteps that approach him, so once a hand slides across his waist, he can't help but jump slightly. "What the..."

"Did I scare you?," Armie whispers as Timothée turns around, tipping his head back so he can look Armie in the eye. "Hey, there."

"Hey," Timothée smiles, all those weird feelings that were consuming him suddenly disappearing. "I see you made a new friend?"

"Who? Alice? Yeah, she seems nice, a little too touchy for someone I just met, but I guess that's just how she is."

"Really? She didn't seem very touchy to me," he shrugs, a finger gently tracing the seam of Armie's shirt. "But then maybe she didn't like me as much as she liked you."

"I'm quite irresistible," Armie jokes, tightening his grip around Timothée's waist as he presses their bodies closer together. He bumps their noses, smirks as Timothée rolls his eyes and then gently lets their lips touch in a soft, sweet and short kiss. As he pulls away though, his expression changes into one of confusion mixed with curiosity. "Wait a second, why does it sound like you know something that I don't?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And somehow I don't believe in you."

"And why would I...," he stops, bites his lip and glances out of the window, watching as Alice gets in the car. "Lauren is trying to set you up with Alice."

"Excuse me?"

Timothée simply shrugs, a grin creeping on his face.

"And you've known about this?"

"Yeah, she told me the day she invited me to come along?"

"And were you planning on telling me?"

Timothée inhales deeply, leans in to peck Armie's lips and then disentangles himself from his grip, a smile on his face as he walks out of the kitchen, backwards so he can keep an eye on Armie.

"Truth be told, I was way too interested in seeing your reaction to say anything."

As Armie scoffs, Timothée shrugs and spins around, rushing out of the house and back to the front yard. He stops by Lauren, exchanges a couple of words with her and then watches as Greg locks the front door and leads Armie to the car. As their eyes meet once again, Timothée can't help but chuckle, the look in Armie's face priceless.

"You can get in first," he says, pointing over to the car. "I'm sure you and Alice have a lot more to talk about."

"I fucking hate you," Armie whispers, getting inside the car as Timothée laughs, following him in. He straps on the seatbelt, rolls down the window and glances at Armie as Greg starts the car.

* * *

  
  


Only minutes after they left, Timothée started to notice the dark grey clouds that started to fill up the sky and with each mile they traveled, it became clearer that there was a storm coming their way. Now, almost an hour into their drive, the first raindrops start to fall and Timothée watches in silence as they stream down the car windows. He raises his finger, racing the droplet as he would do when he was a child, a little smile on the corner of his lip as he thinks back on the small trips his family would do over the holidays.

Suddenly lightning strikes, illuminating Timothée's face as he jumps back slightly, his heart beating faster. He bites his lip when he feels Armie's hand on his knee, squeezing it gently as if to say that everything is okay. He nods quickly, licks his lip and then turns back to the window, noticing how the trees are blowing from side to side, the streets are empty and the rain quickly intensifies.

He sighs, hoping the rain won't ruin his weekend, which he hopes he can spend walking around the lake, enjoying the warmth and the view. He needs an escape, two days where he doesn't care about renovations or what suits the restaurant's menu better. He hears Lauren chuckle and looks ahead, noticing the car is slowing down and ahead of the road, a two store house stands, the walls white and windows dark grey. He smiles, recognizing the house from the photos Lauren showed him, but realizing the place is a lot bigger than he had pictured it in his head.

When they come to a stop, Timothée is the first one out of the car, stretching out his arms and legs, clearly not minding the fact he's getting soaked. He inhales deeply, pushes his hair back and turns on his heels, joining Lauren by the trunk and taking some of the bags with him to the house. Before entering, he makes sure to kick his shoes to the side on the small porch, his eyes wandering around the place as he sets the bags down by the staircase. 

The living room is spacious, with a large television, a fireplace and a huge couch, which looks irresistibly comfortable. He glances to the left and spots the kitchen, which isn't huge, but enough for two people to work well. On the wall across from him, a large slide glass door is set and through it he can see the patio, where a couple of chairs and tables are spread, while on the distance the lake shows all its glory. He smiles, realizes that even if it does rain the entire weekend, there's no way he can't enjoy his time there and finds himself even more excited than he already was. He clearly did the right thing agreeing to come on this trip.

"Here we are guys," Lauren says, hands in her hips as she gives a quick look around. "I hope the rain doesn't ruin our plans, this place is way too beautiful for us to be stuck inside the house the entire weekend."

"It's only Friday," Greg says from the bottom of the stairs, Ella sleeping peacefully on his arms. "And it's not even seven yet, so the weather can still change. Don't worry about it, love."

"I hope you're right," she sighs, watches as he goes up the stairs and then turns back to her friends, putting on a smile. "So, we have three bedrooms. Ella will be staying with us at the master bedroom, Alice can stay on the one right next door and if it's okay with you guys, you can share the one at the end of the hall."

"I'm okay with that," Armie quickly replies, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Don't know if Mr. New York will be that happy with the idea though."

Timothée glances at him, quickly noticing the smirk plastered on his face and he has to do everything not to burst out laughing.

"There's two beds, righ?"

"Of course."

"Then it's all good," he shrugs, looks around and grabs some of his bags. "Can I put these in the kitchen?"

"Sure, come with me."

"I'll take the bags upstairs," Armie shouts as Timothée follows Lauren to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to see Armie and Alice going up the stairs, both of them laughing. He frowns, presses his lips together and then shakes his head, trying to push away any weird thoughts. There's nothing for him to worry about.

"It seems like they are getting along," Lauren says, which forces Timothée to snap out of his thoughts, his confused eyes finding her, who chuckles. "Armie and Alice, they seem to be getting along."

"Oh, right."

"Maybe my plan will work after all," she smiles proudly, unpacking the bags and setting everything down on the counter. "And I'm sorry for making you two share a bedroom, but I didn't want to look like I was trying to get those two together by force. I hope you understand."

"You don't have to worry about me, Lauren."

"Really?," she asks, a tone of concern in her voice as she turns to him and leans against the counter. "We can change the arrangements if you don't feel comfortable staying with him. I know you two are not the best of friends, so if you feel like this is too weird, we can try some other way."

"Hey, it's okay," Timothée assures her with a smile. "Where can I put those?"

"You brought a lot of food, didn't you?"

"This is the first time you travel with me, but soon enough you'll realize this is me being quite basic. I once prepared so much food for a family trip, we almost had to take the suitcases out of the trunk to accommodate all."

Lauren laughs, but stops once she realizes he isn't actually joking.

"You serious?"

"When it comes to food, I hardly ever joke, Lauren."

"You're crazy," she chuckles, squeezing his shoulder before she opens the fridge, keeping it open with her feet as Timothée hands her the food containers and packages. As she hears footsteps, she glances up, looking over at the living room, where Greg now is. "She's still asleep?"

"Like an angel," he smiles, fixing the cushions on the couch. "Also, I think you'd like to know Armie and Alice are standing by her bedroom, so focused on whatever they are talking about that they barely even noticed me come down."

"Really?," she squeals, smiling proudly at Timothée. "That's awesome."

"Yeah, awesome," he repeats, swallowing hard as he glances up at the staircase, that wave of heat washing him over again.


End file.
